


Bāṛi

by sucaritra



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, F/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, oc is british, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11397888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sucaritra/pseuds/sucaritra
Summary: "You slowly straighten up as soon as your heart doesn't feel like it's about to beat through your chest and that's when you hear it. The whistling."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic and i have a brief idea of where i'm going with it, just need to get all the details in between. while i did use "you" perspective, oc has a personality and name so i apologize if that puts you off

If ever given the option, you would have definitely chosen to live out the apocalypse back in England and not the Southern states of the US, if only because of the weather.

  
You're used to torrential rain and and unforgiving winds, with the occasional sunny day mixed in here and there, not what feels like slowly baking alive in the devil's arse. While, fortunately, your melanin rich skin was made to handle harsh temperatures, being a 3rd generation south Asian living in England has admittedly made you soft and struggling to function with temperatures over 25 degrees celsius. And so here you are, 2 years into the apocalypse, 2 years of fighting to survive in America, a foreign land on which you were only supposed to spend a couple of weeks of the summer before starting uni, scouring the streets in hopes of finding some water or anything to fill the aching pit that is your stomach.

  
You're dangerously malnourished and dehydrated right now, and you know it won't be long before one of the dead will easily be able to take you down. Fuck, they probably won't even have much to chew on if you carry on the way you are.

  
You've already raided the shops on either side of you, coming up empty handed, much to your annoyance. Your last chance is the corner store in front of you. With fingers crossed and prayers repeated in your head on the hopes of finding something of substance inside, you raise your khanjar and enter the store. It's a fancy little thing you'd picked up at an Islamic shop for your mum back in England, back when you were a tourist and not a twitchy survivor with possibly self-diagnosed PTSD. Thankfully the store is clear of dead ones and as you search the backroom and shelves for any sign of something edible, you unearth some unopened crackers and 3 bottles of water. You never thought you'd cry over a box of Ritz, yet here you are, eyes watering, downing half a bottle of water and shoving biscuits into your gob. You don't eat much, wary of making yourself sick after going without for so long, and so you place your treasure into your backpack and carry on your search. With a slightly less painful belly and a not-so-parched mouth, a more thorough search of the place turns up a pack of mints, a roll of tape and a pack of tobacco with papers and filters. Someone must be on your side up there because today seems to be your lucky day. 

  
The smallest of smiles makes it's way onto your face as you hop up onto the counter and start rolling your first fag in who-the-fuck knows how long. You grab a couple more crackers and a few more sips of water before lighting up and thinking of your next steps. It's still relatively early, but you need to use this time to find yourself some shelter for the night and not push your luck with more supplies. 

  
Surviving a world where the dead roam free is hard on anyone. Surviving in a foreign country is infinitely worse. Hell, you're not even sure that you haven't just been going around in circles for the past 2 years. You're sense of direction is pretty shit. You could be walking for days here and not so much as come across a petrol station, while in England you'd come across a council estate every 10 minutes, or, more commonly, a kebab shop. Fuck, you'd kill for a kebab right about now.

  
Common sense tells you there's bound to be some houses nearby because of the shops, but are you willing to risk the possibility of running into other survivors? You’ve avoided residential areas for this very reason. You do not do people. You’ve got your crippling anxiety to thank for that. While you  _ know _ having a group will help your chances of survival, people these days are a lot worse than they were at the start of this whole mess; they’re less empathetic towards others, more suspicious of anyone new, and more willing to take whatever the hell they want from you. Especially men, who  _ of course _ there are more of now than women. Typical. 

 

Turns out, it doesn’t matter what you decide to do, because just as you hop off the counter and crush the butt of your fag under your boot, you hear the tell tale sounds of motorcycles and cars in the distance. You’re just about ready to throw up the few crackers, alongside your heart, while your panicked mind contemplates what to do. You can’t risk staying here, because while they might just drive on past, they’re more than likely to stop and search the stores for supplies, and you’ll end up being a sitting duck waiting to be found. Mind made up, you sprint out the fire exit towards the back to avoid being seen, taking down a dead fuck lingering a few feet ahead of you and make a run for the tree line not too far ahead. Still weak from the lack of nutrition in your body, you’re not as fast as you’d like to be but still make it within the cover of the trees before you hear the engines cut out. 

 

With the world as quiet as it is these days, you can faintly hear someone giving orders and the raiding of the stores even from this distance. They clearly don’t care about how much noise they make, immediate red flags, and so you don’t stick around in the general area for a second longer and continue in a jog through the forest, trying to put as much distance between you and the rowdy bunch of survivors as possible. 

 

A safe distance into the forest, you start following the general direction of the tree line as you can recall it, as you don’t fancy getting lost in the woods for weeks on end and not knowing how to make it out again. You’re scared,  _ of course _ you fucking are, and you’re not ashamed to admit it because you're young and hungry and weak and you don’t know where you’re going and that could have been a  _ really _ good group that could take you in and protect you or they could be a  _ really _ bad group of what sounded like men that could take you in and do bad things to you and it’s not like you can take on a whole group of men and you don’t know what to do anymore and you just want be home with your mum and family and this whole shitpile to be just a nightmare and - 

 

You need to stop before your spiralling thoughts lead to a panic attack and make the situation worse than it fucking is. You rest your hands on your knees and take in slow deep breaths,  _ in through your nose, out through your mouth _ . You slowly straighten up as soon as your heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat through your chest and that’s when you hear it. The whistling. 


	2. Chapter 2

Fuck. Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ .

 

How the hell did they catch up to you?! Granted, you weren’t as fast as you could have been but you definitely weren’t slow either. You’d put a good few miles between yourself and the store and they still caught up in no time. These guys were good.

 

The two-tone whistle was coming from behind you, too close for comfort, and so, using the adrenaline running through your veins and that alone you pumped your legs as fast as you could, keeping your eyes ahead and towards the ground. You were  _ not  _ going to make a rookie mistake and trip over a damn root. Fuck that. 

 

One whistle became two, which became three and before you knew it you could hear it coming from every direction. Under the shrill sound you could hear the thumping of you don’t even know how many boots, rounding on you with such ease while you were just about ready to hack up a lung from being so out of breath. 

 

You don’t know how long you’ve been running for but soon find yourself skidding to a stop, almost losing your footing in the process, as, seemingly out of nowhere, a man holding a scary looking gun jumps out in front of you, pointing the damn thing right at your chest. Your eyes are impossibly wide, your chest is heaving and you don’t know where to look as you are quickly surrounded by a group of nasty looking men, all brandishing weapons similar to the first guy and all pointed at you. 

 

Some of your dark hair has fallen onto your face from the ratty bun atop your head, but you’re too scared to move it, too scared to do anything. You're pretty certain that any sudden movements from you and they’d have no qualms filling you with lead. And so you wait, wait for someone to do anything because having all these eyes on you flares up your anxiety in such a way that you know you are visibly shaking, and you can't seem to stop you hands from fidgeting and pulling at your fingers. 

 

After what feels like an eternity in your agitated mind but was only mere seconds, an older man steps forward. Donning an ugly, yellowed shirt and cargo pants, he steps towards you in all his receding hairline, mustachioed glory and sends you the creepiest fucking smile you’d ever been sent. It was too intense, this whole shitty situation is just too intense and you’d welcome a ‘damsel-in-distress’ faint right about now, if only just to escape this world for a short while. 

 

You watch as he gives you a once over as he approaches, and then circles you before stopping in front of you again. 

 

“Well hi there! First thing’s first, I’m gonna need you to drop all your weapons and that pretty little backpack right here on the ground.” He's all smiles but you’re not an idiot, this is no request. Slowly, you unsheath your khanjar and drop it at your feet, along with a shitty little pocket knife you keep in your denim jacket. You're teeth dig into your bottom lip as you take off your backpack and the reality of this sets in. You are so  _ fucked _ . As soon as your bag drops to the ground the man gives a loud clap, almost making you jump out of your skin. “Well ain’t you a pleasure! You and I are gonna get along just fine if you keep doing as I say. Now, I’m Simon, and you are?” His eyebrows raised expectantly while he attempted to maintain eye contact with you, which you were expertly avoiding.

 

“Maria.” It was mumbled, but he clearly heard you in the quiet of the woods, but the wanker still asked you to repeat yourself, which you did a little louder. 

 

 

“Aw, ain’t that a pretty name,” why did everything he say sound like he was taking the piss? “Tell me Maria, you on your own out here or do you have a group or camp nearby?”

 

Finally, you raised your eyes to his, if only so he doesn’t think you’re lying. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see one of the men brutally take down a dead one, stomping on it’s head just for the hell of it as you replied “no camp or group.” Amazingly, his grin got even bigger at the sound of your accent and you noticed the rest of the men suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

 

“Well aren’t you a long way from home!” You knew it was coming, fucking hell. As soon as you say more than a couple of words, 9 times out of 10 that’s the response you receive, or some variation of it and you were silently patting yourself on the back for not rolling your eyes at hearing it again, though your eye did twitch. He picks up your bag and continues, “You really expect me to believe that a little thing like you is surviving out here all on your own? Nah, I don't buy it, especially with those 2 little kni- aha! There it is.” he pulls out your tobacco and filters, and you try very hard not to scowl as he shakes them at you condescendingly. “Such a bad habit. These are what gave you away you know, could smell you all over that store, knew you couldn’t be far.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and then pockets your baccy, then tosses your bag and knives to a blonde with a crossbow and a mean looking burn on the side of his face. “I won't repeat myself, hate that shit, but I will allow you one more chance to be honest with me.” The smile dropped from his face as he stared at you expectantly.

 

“I was with a small group a couple of months back for a bit, but we got separated by a herd, been on my own since. I’m not lying.” And you weren't. While it’s true that you tend to avoid people, it doesn’t mean that others avoid you and over the past 2 years you’d been with various groups, never being able to stay together for very long due to circumstances outside of your control, such as the dead attacking or even other people. Simon stares at you, probably trying to decide whether you're lying or not, before he graces you with another one of his wide grins.

 

“You know what? I believe you. So here's what's going to happen now.” Simon turns towards the blonde with your few possessions, “all that shit right there? Belongs to Negan now. You'll meet him soon enough. You're going to come with us and we’re gonna go on back to our compound. You're gonna love it there, we've even got  _ gelato _ .” Simon wiggles his brow and then steps towards you, reaching for your arm. You swallow and step back at the move.

 

“What are you going to do?”  _ to me. _ You don't say it but you don't have to. Whether it’s the tremor in your voice or the unmistakable fear in your wide eyes, Simon seems to understand the deeper meaning behind the question. His face softens slightly as he again takes a step towards you, and this time you stay rooted to the spot.

 

“Listen, it’s not that kind of place. We’re a large community, men, women, young and old. We take care of our own. As long as you follow the rules then you have nothing to worry about. The shit that you're worried about? We don’t allow that. That type of shit doesn’t belong in the world, no matter how fucked up it is now. Negan sees to it himself that anyone even thinking of doing something like that is punished severely.” Simon maintains eye contact with you as he speaks and when he’s finished you almost imperceptibly nod your head. You want to believe him, you really do, but honestly he could just be talking out of his arse just to get you to go with them quietly. Nevertheless, when he reaches for your arm you don’t back away and allow him to lead you out of the woods towards, where you assume, the vehicles they arrived in. 

 

Because, what choice do you really have? You're surrounded by a bunch of burly men who are all armed to the teeth and who now all hold your life in their hands.

 


	3. Chapter 3

You did your best trying not to fidget while you sat between Simon and, who you learned was, Dwight in one of the trucks. Dwight was driving while Simon messed around with some of the cds in the glove compartment, before settling on one, some country tune you didn't recognise. Even though you kept your gaze straight ahead, you could feel Simon shamelessly staring at you, whilst Dwight was being more subtle through his glances from the corner of his eye every now and again. It wasn't long before the questions began.

“So what's an english bird like you doing so far away from her nest? Were you here on vacation or something?” Simon inquired, watching you carefully.

“Uh, yeah. Came during the summer with a friend and the virus became a problem halfway through our holiday. We, uhm, tried getting an early flight back but the airports were one of the first things to be put on lockdown.” You didn't like thinking back to the beginning, having to relive the panic of those first few weeks, losing your only friend so soon into the end of civilisation and remembering just how truly alone and lost you had felt. 

Simon tapped you on the knee with his own when he noticed the slightly sombre look on your face as a result of his question, and instead started asking your age, or at least your best estimation of your age, what you did before the apocalypse, what weapons your good with and just general questions about yourself. You answered him honestly, because, really, what's the point in lying? You told him you'd never fired a gun, which shouldn't have been as surprising as he made it look, even Dwight raised his eyebrows at this revelation, considering the fact that guns weren’t legal in the UK, and so you mainly stuck to knives, machetes, things that were simple enough to master. 

The conversation tapered off eventually, along with the adrenaline, as you all rode in silence, aside from the low music softly playing and the occasional static from a walkie talkie. The soft sounds coupled with the cool breeze and the simple fact that you hadn't truly slept properly for the past 2 years from the fear of a rogue dead bastard getting through whatever protection you'd use to defend yourself, had caused you to lightly doze off. When you next blearily open your eyes, it is to the sights and sounds of a fully functioning community. You were completely awestruck.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary, your new home sleepy head!” Simon grinned at you and proceeded to hop out of the truck as soon as it was parked, gesturing for you to follow after him. Your wide eyes took in everything they could, committing the scene to memory. You were stood in front of a looming concrete building, metal stairways and catwalks snaking all around it. Armed guards were dotted all around, along the rooftops, entrances, watchtowers; no one was getting in or out of this place without someone taking notice. From where you were positioned, you could see what looked like a flourishing garden around the side of the main building, with women and men tending to the crops. Simon was being truthful when he said they had all sorts of people here, and your anxiety lessened significantly when you witnessed a group of women laughing and talking amongst themselves while doing laundry out in the open.

Expecting you to follow, Simon lead they way inside the building, but didn't get far as he stopped to speak to a fairly short, curly haired woman. She eyed you as they spoke in hushed tones, and you kept your distance as they didn't seem like they'd appreciate an eavesdropper much. After a few more words were exchanged, with the occasional glance thrown your way, they both walked towards you. The woman left through the entrance you had just walked through while Simon  
stopped in front of you.

“The boss man hasn't gotten back yet so you're gonna have to wait to meet him. In the meantime I'm gonna get you started. One thing you're gonna wanna remember here is that the rules keep us alive. Without the rules, there is no civilisation.” You didn't completely agree with that but listened on as he lead you through numerous hallways. “You do as you're told and follow the rules? Well, you're gonna have the best time you could hope for here. You break a rule? You'll get punished. In most cases severely so. You do not want to be on the other end of one of those, trust me.”

Storing that ominous little warning away, you walked through a set of double doors into what was basically an indoor market. The large room was packed with stalls, all manned by a variety of characters. You both weaved through the different stalls, taking note of all that there is on offer, from freshly baked bread and other foods, to knick knacks and clothes and a whole bunch of other items. You were so engrossed in watching the sheer number of people here and all the supplies this place held in just this one room that you didn't notice that Simon had stopped and ended up, embarrassingly, walking into his back. You straightened up and mumbled a quick apology as he turned to you with a proud smile.

“Impressive right? It wasn't easy getting to this point, where we can live a relatively normal life, but we’re slowly but surely getting this world right again. And now, you'll be a part of it too!” He turned his attention back to, who you’ve now noticed, and older african-american woman stood behind a table with women's pants and jeans piled on top.

“Rose! I need a women’s welcome pack, she's a little on the small side so do what you can with that. Oh, and no shoes necessary.” he observes, glancing down at your worn but still in good condition boots. 

“Well hello there,” she greets you warmly and you shyly smile back. She makes light conversation with Simon as she rifles through a few boxes stacked behind her before settling on one and handing it over to you. “Might be a little big, but it’ll have to do until you've earned enough to buy better fitting clothes.” Through the open top, you see the box filled with basic toiletries, a bottle of water, a couple of protein bars, a pair of jeans and a striped t-shirt. You graciously thank her, which she waves off, and then follow Simon as he leads you through the hallways yet again.

“What did she mean by earning enough? Do you use money here?” you had to ask, because you couldn't even imagine going back to using cash, figuring that would have become worthless once the world went to shit.

“Almost. We use a points system. Everyone has a job to do here, you work hard and earn points. With the exception of a few, but I’ll let Negan explain that one. You can use your points to buy whatever extras you want; extra food, extra clothes, luxury items, whatever. You got enough points, you can buy whatever you want. This way, everyone does their share of the work.” You can understand that, it’s a way to make sure that everyone does something to contribute around here, no matter how small.

You assumed Negan was the leader here, and you were pretty glad you hadn't met him yet. Truth be told, you were nervous of meeting the guy. The longer you were here, the more you'd come to wanting to stay. Yes, you were still a nervous wreck but, from what you'd seen so far, you wouldn't be entirely opposed to staying. This Negan dude could throw you out with no warning if he wishes, where you'd be back to constantly being on high alert for hidden and visible dangers and wondering when you'd get your next bite to eat or sip of water. Away from the safety of these walls. Yeah, you really didn't want to go back to that.

Simon lead you into a sterile room, whose only occupant was a greying man in a lab coat. The makeshift infirmary was quite large, with locked cabinets and shelves on all the walls, as well as 4 gurneys, 2 on each wall opposite each other, and smelled strongly of bleach.

“New?” he simply asked Simon, to which he nodded, as he looked over your grime covered self. You felt like you were polluting the spotless room from your mere presence alone, and would have shuffled your feet self consciously if you didn't think you'd track dirt everywhere. 

“Carson here is our resident doctor. Needs to make sure you're not bringing in anything that'll make yourself or anyone else here sick and take your medical history. He’ll also tend to any injuries you've got. You're in safe hands. Go on doc.” And with that, Simon took a seat on one of the beds.

Before starting the examination, Carson leads you through a door to the side of the room that turned out to be a small bathroom, complete with a little shower stall. He handed you a large grey towel and asked you to wash up, as it would help him take better stock of any wounds or injuries you may have. 

As soon as he left and closed the door behind himself you turned towards the the shower. No way did they have have a functioning water system here. As you slowly turned on the shower, well, you could have cried right then and there as a jet of warm water came pouring out. You wasted no time in stripping down, grabbing your toiletries from the box, and relishing in the feeling of water running over your head. You didn't want to overstep your boundaries, so you washed as quickly as you could, scrubbing your hair clean and then conditioning and finger combing it until it was free of all knots and smoother than it has ever been these past few years. You rubbed your body red getting rid of all the dirt and grime you'd once been convinced was just a second skin and was now swirling down the drain. You didn't even care that you were irritating some of the cuts and grazes you'd acquired while surviving outside, you were just overjoyed at the feeling of being clean.

Once you'd managed to drag yourself out of the stall, you dried yourself off and picked out the shirt and jeans from the box. Underneath them both, you now notice, is a bra, a pack of plain underwear and a couple pairs of socks. Not wasting anymore time, you get dressed and exit the bathroom with your boots in one hand and the box in the other. Simon pulls the curtain closed around the bed he's still sat on to give you some privacy as the doctor begins his examination.

Carson begins by telling you to remove your clothes, and you do so hesitantly, keeping you bra and underwear on. This is a nightmare. You've always had self-esteem issues and the apocalypse has done nothing to change that. You know logically that he's a doctor and that that's what they do, but that doesn't stop you from wanting to self-consciously wrap your arms around yourself. Carson, noticing the insecurity from a mile away, tells you what he’ll be doing before he does it, so you at least know what to expect. He also asks you all about your medical history as he pokes you and takes all sorts of readings and whatever else. This makes the whole thing go by much faster and before you know it, he gives you the okay to get dressed again. He didn't have to do much, nothing was broken or too badly bruised, but he did put some ointment on a few cuts on your arms and legs to aid in the healing.

Once you were dressed and Simon was in front of you again, Carson reported that you were fine apart from being dehydrated and pretty severely malnourished. He suggested small meals a few times a day to build your strength back up and then you were on your way out in the maze of corridors once again.

“You clean up well.” You blushed as Simon smiled at you, watching you trying in vain to keep up with the giant’s long strides, actively avoiding eye contact. 

He leads you through another set of double doors into a cafeteria, much like what you'd find in schools, with tables and benches littered all around and with the serving area towards the back which hid the kitchen behind it that you could see through the windowless hole in the wall the kitchen staff were using to pass through pots and trays of food to the servers. 

It must have been dinner time because the room was packed with people, many already seated and tucking into their meals while a few stragglers were queuing for theirs. You could feel more and more eyes on you the further you walked in, causing you to shuffle behind Simon slightly in a futile attempt to hide yourself behind his stature. Simon dropped you off on the end of a mostly full table as he went ahead and jumped the queue to grab 2 bowls of food. You kept your head down, feeling eyes burn into you from all sides and only looked up once Simon set down a bowl of stew in front of you and took his seat opposite you.  
As Carson suggested, it was a significantly smaller portion than everyone else’s, but you didn't care as your stomach roared at the heavenly smell coming off of it. Gratefully, you looked up at Simon and thanked him with a small smile before digging in.

“No thanks necessary,” he smiled back, taking a bite of his own food before continuing. “You get 3 free hot meals when you first arrive here, and by then you’ll make enough points to pay your way for hot meals, or stick to whatever cold foods are available, usually from a can, free of charge. Told you, we look after our own here.” He beams at you before you both go back to finishing off your food. 

When Dwight enters the dining area and spots the both of you, immediately heading your way, you feel a little uneasy because of the brief look he sends your way. You don't know why but it almost seems as if he pities you, and as he whispers something to Simon you try not to appear too obvious in your eavesdropping in order to discover the reason for the tension that surrounds Dwight. It’s pointless, of course, as you can't hear a thing in the loud environment of the cafeteria, and you curiously watch as Simon excuses himself, saying he’ll be right back and they both leave you there on your own. 

As soon as they have both stepped out, you try to keep your breathing even as the stares which had subsided once Simon sat with you have now restarted, along with hushed conversation. It feels like Simon has been gone for so long that you’re not even sure if he's coming back, and you panic slightly as you spot a greasy looking man who had been blatantly leering at you stand from his table and slowly maneuver his way around the tables, heading straight for you.

You're saved, however, from having to make polite conversation with someone so unsavory looking as the strangest of things happens.

With loud steps and that haunting two-tone whistle, in walks an impressively tall and well built fella with an even more impressive choice of weapon; a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, simple yet deadly. Clad in leather, his eyes take in the room. That wasn't the strange part. No. the strange part is that, apart from the staff handling food, every single person in the room has dropped to their knee and lowered their head for this one man. You gawk at the scene before you, wondering what the actual fuck is going on, and should you also kneel? Simon, conveniently, managed to leave that part out of the whole introduction to the place.

Your wide-eyed stare eventually returns to the man with the power to make a room full of people leave their food just to kneel for him, and you jump slightly as you see his eyes already on you. You abruptly close your mouth so you don't seem like even more of an idiot, and watch as a slow smile forms on his clean-shaven face, revealing deep dimples as it turns into a fully fledged grin. He maintains eye contact with you for a few more seconds, grin still in place, before turning and walking out of the cafeteria. 

And just like that, life comes back to the people around you as they all stand and resume what they were doing, as if nothing out of the norm had just occurred.

What the fuck just happened?!


	4. Chapter 4

Common sense told you that you just had the pleasure of meeting the fearless leader of the Sanctuary in all his glory, but that didn't stop you from questioning Simon about what you'd just witnessed before he could even take his seat opposite you again.

 

“Yeah, probably shoulda warned you about that.” You could only stare incredulously as he shrugged and dove right back into his dinner, looking at you as if  _ you  _ were the one that was crazy and not the people prostrating themselves around you for one man. The odd, cult-like behaviour brought goosebumps to your skin, making you wonder what other surprises Simon was hiding from you. 

 

While kneeling for someone wasn't something you were entirely keen on, you knew it wasn't the worst thing you could be doing just to survive. Hell, you wouldn't just be surviving here, you'd be  _ living _ . As you hadn't been informed of this particular rule, Simon reassured you that you weren't in any trouble, though it was time to finally meet the boss properly. This did nothing to ease your ever-present anxiety.

 

“You need to relax, it’s honestly not that bad. He’ll just go over the rules again, give you a couple of options and then you're done. Simple.” 

 

“Options?”

 

“Yeah, like what positions are available for you here.” Simon was careful not to give too much away; he didn't need you freaking out on him anymore than you already were. He didn't know what it was about you, maybe it was your accent or those damn doe eyes, hell, maybe it’s just who you are in general but Simon’s found himself taking a liking to you. Sure, the lack of eye contact was freaking annoying, especially when he was talking to you, but he just put it down to the justified nerves of being in a new place. It was also offbeat for him to spend as much time with a newbie as he was with you; usually he’d just burden you on Dwight or another saviour, but he’s found himself wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. You were new and different from the regular survivors that turn up at the Sanctuary, and until the novelty wore off, he was sticking close by.

 

Soon, Simon led you to the top floor of the building where Negan resides. The dark stairwells and tall, winding staircase made the trip up seem even more foreboding than the imminent meeting had you feeling, causing you to try and regulate your breathing, both from the anxiety creeping up on you and the exhaustion from climbing so many stairs. You figured you were being subtle, but the slight, unattractive wheezes pushing past your lips brought a small smirk to Simon’s face, causing your cheeks to bloom red. 

 

Slowing down his pace once at the top to allow you to catch your breath, Simon led you to a set of dark, mahogany doors. Knocking twice, you held your breath as you strained to hear any sounds of life on the other side, hearing nothing. After what felt like forever - he was definitely letting you stew in your nerves, dick - a booming voice called for you to enter.

 

The bright light in the room immediately assaulted your eyes, a huge contrast to the gloomy hallways you came in from, and you had to squint slightly to stop the tears stinging at your eyes. The source of the light is the first thing you notice, as straight ahead of you are floor-to-ceiling windows, much cleaner compared to the grimy windows in the rest of the building. In front of the windows sits a large, imposing desk with a black swivel chair behind it, the occupant of which is seated and staring out through the windows at the compound below. You half expect him to be stroking a white cat on his lap when he turns around, and are slightly disappointed when he doesn't. 

 

“You can go now Simon,” his eyes stay locked on yours as he relieves Simon of his duties, a large smile gracing his features. Fuck. Why did he have to be so damn handsome?! As if you weren't nervous enough, you feel a slight crush begin to develop the longer you stare at him, trying not to drool. He's tall and broad, wearing a white t-shirt that stretches over his chest. “Well, you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna take a seat?” The unexpected break in the silence causes you to jump slightly, resulting in him chuckling under his breath as you rush to take a seat on the chair opposite him at the desk. 

 

You're leg bounces and your hands twitch as he pierces you with his umber gaze. 

 

“Do you know who I am, sweetheart?”

 

“Uh, Negan right?” his pearly whites are on show as his smile broadens.

 

“That's right, and you are…?”

 

“Maria”

 

“ _ Maria, you've gotta see her, _ ” he caught your less than subtle eye roll and the small smile adorning your face as he sang the old Blondie song, causing him to laugh under his breath. “What, you heard that one before?”

 

“All the time in school, mostly from teachers. That and “ _ how do you solve a problem like Maria _ ?” his eyes widened comically as you sang, making you squirm in your seat slightly.

 

“Holy shit! You sing?” you gave a noncommittal shrug, “I’ve been waiting for a pretty little songbird since we found that shithole music store. Anyway, we’ll get right the fuck back to that. First, I have a proposition for you. Simon tell you about how we run things here?” at your nod, he continues, “There's a couple of ways to earn your keep here. Now, I know which option I’d like you to choose, but, it’s entirely your decision. Option one: you work for points. I’ll assign you a job here, you work your ass off to earn points which you can then use to buy whatever shit you want.” He pulls a face at that, an obvious attempt at swaying you away from that option.

 

“Option two: you become a savior. You'll swear your loyalty to me and to protecting and providing for the Sanctuary, through whatever means necessary. You're gonna need some pretty decent sized balls for that too, I can't have fuckers out there who can't stomach the sight of gore and all that other fun stuff.” 

 

You didn't like the sound of that. While you knew how to survive out there, it didn't mean you enjoyed it and wanted to go back.  _ Whatever means necessary _ . You'd have to be able to kill whoever Negan asked you to kill, and that was something you were  _ not  _ okay with. Just because the world had gone to shit, it didn't mean your morals had to as well. Of course, if you or others around you were in danger, you'd for sure defend yourself but you were not willing to go out and look for that kind of trouble. 

 

Negan seemed to delight in your concerned expression at option two before moving on.

 

“And finally option three. This is  _ definitely  _ my favourite.” He grinned that manic grin of his as he rested his forearms on the desk and leaned towards you as you curiously stared back, your interest peaking. “Now, I don't throw this option around lightly so you should be  _ very _ flattered I’m considering you for this position. Heh.” He licked his lips and your interest suddenly took a nosedive, having a good idea on where this was going. “If you choose option three, then you, my darling, will have the pleasure of becoming my wife. Wife number six to be exact. All your needs will be met; whatever your pretty little heart desires, you shall get. You won't have to work, all you need to do is keep me happy, and in turn, I will make sure you are very  _ satisfied. _ ” He raised his eyebrows and gave you an encouraging look, awaiting your answer.

 

Now, Negan didn't look like a man who would appreciate being laughed at, so you were doing everything within your power to keep down the giggles threatening to erupt from inside of you. Honestly, what the hell kind of proposition is that?! 

 

It wasn't that you weren't attracted to him, because holy shit, who wouldn't want to get with that Adonis?! No, you had no doubts about him being able to  _ satisfy  _ you, even if he is a cocky arse. It was the simple fact that you were a virgin. It might be silly and too optimistic, especially with the world the way it is, but you wanted your first time to be meaningful and with someone who actually cares about you. Not a presumptuous geezer who's looking to get his dick wet.

 

Your cheeks are a fierce shade of red as Negan watches you mull over your options with that stupid, self-assured look on his face, winking at you when you make eye contact.

 

“So, what do ya say, sweetheart? I know I sure as shit want to make you blush for entirely different reasons. I promise, you will  _ not  _ be disappointed. Fuck no.” You could have roasted marshmallows from the heat coming off of your face as he grinned at you, and all you could do is lightly shake your head and huff out a short nervous laugh.

 

This was  _ not  _ how you expected this meeting to go.

 

“Um, can I work for points?” cue the dramatic sigh from Negan, “it’s just, I think I’ll be a better fit there.”

 

“Can't say I’m not disappointed darling, that accent alone is making my dick do somersaults under here, would've loved to discover all the sounds I could get outta you.” He grinned at you as you avoided looking at him, cringing slightly at his vulgar language.

 

“You should probably get that checked out, I don't think it’s normal for your prick to be practicing gymnastics.”

 

“Oh ho, my  _ prick  _ can do a lot more than that sweetheart. Would you like a  _ fucking  _ demonstration?”

 

“What, you gonna do some rhythmic gymnastics for me?”

 

“I’ll even let you rate me out of ten.”

 

“You're very confident.”

 

“I have good reason to be, want me to show you why?”

 

“Another time maybe.”

 

“Ah ha! So there's another time?!”

 

“I think we’re getting a bit off topic. What jobs can I do here?” you both struggle to keep the smiles off of your faces as you look at each other, your face slightly embarrassed and flustered while his is as predatory as ever, with the addition of a light in his eyes you weren't entirely sure was there before.

 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can think of a couple of  _ jobs  _ for you to do right here.” You're ashamed to say that you laughed at that, because fucking hell was it corny. “But you're right, getting back on track. What did you do before the dead fucks took over?”

 

“Nothing helpful really. I just finished college, I think that's high school over here or whatever, and was here for the summer before starting university.”

 

“Fucking hell you were young. You didn't have any jobs?”

 

“Not really. I did do some, uh, I guess it’d be assistant work for my dad. He was a self-employed handyman and his English wasn't very good so I did a lot of his paperwork and took his calls for him. That's not really very useful nowadays though.”

 

“Huh. Secretary. I like the sound of that.” You don't know how to feel when you caught the wicked glint in his eyes as he leaned back in his seat and considered you. He then lifted the walkie sat atop the desk, calling for Simon before standing from his seat and turning his attention back to you. “You're going to report here at eight a.m. sharp, I’ll fill you in on your duties then.” 

 

He’d made his way around his desk by this point and came to stand in front of you, leaning back while simultaneously pushing his hips forwards towards you. You desperately avoided looking at it, not wanting to see if there was any truth to his earlier words. The man apparently has little regard for personal boundaries as he placed his hands on the top of the chair on either side of your head, leaning in close enough to feel his breath ghost over your lips.

 

“Do  _ not  _ keep me waiting sweetheart. I fucking hate that shit. And I will have no qualms about taking you over my knee if you give me reason.” 

 

The intensity of his tawny eyes drilling into yours were enough to give you chills, and you swallowed visibly, causing his lips to quirk. Negan only broke the eye contact once Simon made his presence known on the other side of the door, and even then he took his time , breathing in deeply before raising from his position as Simon entered. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart,” he nodded towards Simon, signalling you to leave. He hadn't moved from his place in front of you, meaning you had to squeeze past him in order to get to Simon. You may have avoided seeing the effect you had on him before, but, oh boy, you sure as shit felt it against your hip as you moved past him. Sly fucker. You didn't look at him as you rushed to Simon with wide eyes and exited his office, hearing Negan laugh behind you as he thoroughly enjoyed the sight of you flustered.

 

“Told you it wouldn't be that bad.” Simon, the knob, grimaced slightly at your entirely unimpressed look and took a leaf out of your book and promptly avoided eye contact with you. 

 

You sighed as you walked beside him to wherever the fuck he was leading you to now. At least the hard part was over. You were now an official resident of the Sanctuary. You were clean, had food in your belly, and would be starting your new job tomorrow. It didn't matter where you'd be sleeping tonight as you knew it would be the most restful sleep you'd have since, quite possibly, this whole apocalypse shit started. 

 

Today turned out not to be so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

You woke up to the hussle and bussle of the Sanctuary’s inhabitants rising and getting ready for the work day. Turns out you were wrong about having a peaceful night. Every tossing and turning of the people in the surrounding beds throughout the night sounded like a stray dead fuck to your paranoid mind, resulting in a restless sleep. You were absolutely knackered as you wearily raised yourself off of your bed and took in your surroundings.

 

You'd picked up your little ‘welcome pack’ from the clinic once you'd realised you'd forgotten it after your meeting with Negan, along with the disgusting clothes you'd arrived in. Simon had assured you that you'd get a chance to wash them as he led you to your new bedroom. You bedroom also happened to house about fifty other people as you were placed in the communal living area, where most, if not all, newbies start off in. Most tend to stay there too, mainly due to the sheer number of points required for your own room, and that's only if there are any single rooms available as they tend to be snatched up pretty quick.

 

While you weren't ungrateful for being taken in, it was difficult to be positive about your new digs. Packing so many people into one room meant there was an ever present stench of sweat and body odour. The assault on your nose made it difficult not to grimace just being in the room, and even more difficult to sleep to, but you supposed you'd get used to it.

 

Everyone, at least, had their own little space, separated by curtains or pieces of material. Your bunk was, thankfully, in a corner, with only a rough looking older lady to your right. Apart from the box of necessities and the mattress atop a few crates stacked together, your bunk was empty of anything else, which you didn't mind. It wasn't like you could pick up some furniture from Ikea and start decorating. 

 

You were dressed in the same outfit as yesterday as you followed the large group of people out of the living quarters. Eerily, everyone resembled the dead outside as they all flocked towards the cafeteria in search of food. You tuck your t-shirt into your slightly baggy jeans to keep them up as you mentally take note of the route, trying to memorise at least the main areas of the Sanctuary. 

 

The smell of freshly baked bread, eggs and some kind of meat sizzling on frying pans wafted up your nose, making your mouth water and stomach rumble as you entered the canteen. Grudgingly, you queued up for the cold porridge line rather than the hot food, opting to save your two remaining hot free meals as you were planning on hoarding your points so you can have your own room. 

 

Taking a seat at a half filled table with your bowl of gruel, you kept your head down as you got started on breakfast. The large clock above the door told you that you only had twenty minutes to finish your meal and get to Negan’s office, making you quicken your pace and a knot of anxiety to form within you.

 

You had a vague idea on what job Negan will give you, making you slightly prepared, but you didn't want to make any assumptions as the man seemed like he’d be full of surprises. 

 

You're broken from your thoughts as a, what you presume to be, Savior takes a seat opposite you. He's probably older than you by only a few years, with silky, brown hair in a bun on his head and sporting quite an impressive beard. The man could have been a model before all this, with thick muscles and towering in height, and you can't help but complain to yourself about how good looking everyone seems to be around here while you're there looking like a freaking moldy potato.

 

“Hope you don't mind, everywhere else is taken.” he smiled the most charming of smiles at you when you caught his eyes, and suddenly you understood the term ‘ _ swoon’  _ on a whole new level. 

 

“Of course not. I've got to go now anyway or I’ll be late for my first day. Not really the impression I want to set.” you flashed him a shy smile as you slowly started to rise out of your chair.

 

“Oh, well that's a shame. I was hoping to get to know you a little before my shift starts. We don't get newcomers here often as you can imagine. Maybe I’ll catch you at dinner?”

 

“Maybe.” and with another smile in his direction you awkwardly maneuvered your way through the many tables towards the exit. You were hoping for a more graceful departure as his eyes followed you out, but the tripping and stepping on spilt breakfast quickly flushed that idea down the toilet.

 

You quickly located the nearest stairwell and proceed to make the long trek up towards Negan’s office on the top floor. Trying to remember any breathing exercises you used to do in physical education at school to help with the ascent, your thoughts drifted to the bearded hunk you'd just encountered. He was a different kind of handsome to Negan. Sure, they were both tall, imposing, manly men. But the stranger was sweet and well mannered, whereas Negan was foul mouthed and a brute. Oh, and the stranger didn't have five wives. At least, you hoped not.

 

Fuck, you didn't even manage to get his name. 

 

Taking a quick breather at the second floor from the top, you were caught by surprise by the appearance of a stunning, tall brunette who entered the stairwell, and, judging by the look on her face, she was just as surprised by the sight of you. An uncomfortable silence surrounded you as you both stared at each other, yourself feeling just the little bit like a troll in her flowery scented presence. She stared at you for a  _ little  _ too long, causing you to send a strained smile her way before moving to make your way up again before she stopped you.

 

“Sorry! I didn't mean to stare, it’s just that I wasn't expecting anyone out here. Not many people are allowed up here, and you don't look like a Savior.” her eyes narrowed slightly in your direction, silently waiting for an explanation in, you had to admit, a rather polite way.

 

“Oh, well, I’m actually supposed to go to Negan’s office so he can tell me what work I’ll be doing here.”

 

You watched as her face lit up with recognition. She took you in with new eyes as she lit up a cigarette with her dainty fingers, offering you a soft smile.

 

“That’s right, Negan mentioned something about a new girl.”

 

Her pitying stare was making you uncomfortable, so with the excuse of being late you left her to her smoke as you climbed the final steps to the top floor, making your way to Negan’s office door and knocking gently. 

 

“Come in!”

 

At his behest you let yourself in, immediately taking a seat at the desk once again. 

 

“Well if it isn't my favourite Brit! How was your first night sweetheart? Didn't need someone to keep you warm, did you? I would've been more than happy to oblige.” He threw a wink at you, a dirty smirk on his face as he took note of your slowly blooming cheeks.

 

“Uh, no, it was fine. Actually gets a bit hot in that big room.”

 

“Fucking stinks, doesn't it?” He laughed at your shocked face from his unexpected bluntness before continuing. “Don't worry darling, you can say it. Smells worse than one of Fat Joey’s ass acoustics down there, and that's fucking saying something.”

 

You didn't know who the unfortunate man named Fat Joey was but you’d be sure to avoid him when you find out.

 

“It’s not the nicest smelling place, but that's to be expected with so many people in one room. But it was probably the safest night I've had since this whole thing started, so I can't really complain.” 

 

Negan’s face almost imperceptibly softened at that, prompting a shy smile to make it’s way onto your face.

 

“Aw, well that just warms my cold, cold heart.” The wanker couldn't even be serious for five minutes, fucking hell.

 

He lightly chuckles at your unimpressed face before getting into the sole reason you were there.

 

“Alrighty, enough chit-chat. You, my girl, are going to be my hot little secretary. I've always fucking wanted one, and you're small,  _ fuck  _ is it small, amount of experience puts you as the top contender for the job. We’ll see how you do today, and if I like what I see then you're hired!” 

 

He was  _ way  _ more enthusiastic about this than you, but you had to admit it was probably pretty easy work compared to what everyone else here was doing. Plus, you hoped that working under the boss meant that the pay was better, but you weren't stupid enough to ask that.

 

“Sounds good. What will I be doing?”

 

He beamed at you as he replied, “Well, since I'm  _ such  _ a stand up guy, I'm gonna start you off easy for your first day.” 

 

Reaching for something out of your eyesight, he dropped a box onto his desk. You leaned forward to look inside as he slid it towards you, seeing it filled to the brim with papers, barely legible writing scrawled on them. 

 

“I need you to re-write everything that's in that box. That shit has been bugging me since day fucking one. I'm fucking up my eyes trying to read that chicken shit, so you're gonna copy it all down in that neat handwriting girls have. You think you can do that sweetheart?”

 

“I think I can manage that,”  _ you condescending prick. _

 

“Good girl.” he flashed his pearly whites before standing and grabbing the box, leading you to the corner where there was a couch and a coffee table with a large pad of paper and pens resting on it. He placed the box down on the floor before making his way back to his desk.

 

“Just holler if you don't understand a word or need help with anything.” and with that, he grabbed his own pad of paper and got on with whatever work he does up here.

 

You sit indian-style on the floor between the couch and table, grabbing the first paper from the box and reading through it. Grabbing another, you realise these are records of every single person living at the Sanctuary. Most people seem to have just one sheet filled with their information, such as medical history, what they did before the apocalypse and what they did before the Sanctuary, as well as some other details, whilst a few others had multiple sheets. You didn't think it was very ethical for you to be seeing all this, but with the way things are now you supposed it didn't really matter. 

 

You settled in for a long, tedious work day, painfully aware of Negan's gaze burning holes into the side of your head.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning went by slowly, the repetition of copying down the records of all the residents was surprisingly calming, managing to dull the nervous energy surrounding you. Negan would throw a question at you every now and again in an attempt to learn more about you and, annoyingly,  break the comfortable silence that had fallen as you both got on with your own work.

 

“You Indian or something?”

 

“Or something.”

 

“What were you going to study?”

 

“Literature.”

 

“Pfft. Nerd.”

 

By lunch time, you'd gotten through about a quarter of the pile, something you were silently proud of considering you hadn't written anything in years and managed to actually make your handwriting look rather neat. 

 

Negan walked with you out of his office so that you could both grab lunch and split off from you when you got to the floor below his office. Since you weren’t all that hungry considering you've basically sat on your arse all morning, you decided to check out the market which was located on the ground floor.

 

The sights and sounds you entered into was slightly overwhelming as everyone was rushing to grab a quick bite to eat in the half hour time slot dedicated to lunch. Since the canteen was only serving food for breakfast and dinner, everyone had to make do with what was available. There were notable lines for the fresh bread, condiments and salads, by mostly the saviors, while the lengthy lines for protein, granola, and cereal bars were mainly consisting of the residents of the Sanctuary. The significant divide between the classes was not lost on you, and you wondered where working under Negan would place you. 

 

Would you be scrambling for stale food to get you through the day and helplessly save your points for only necessities or medical emergencies since you were part of the working class? Or would you get to enjoy the freshest of food available and spend points on luxuries and material items not truly needed in this world now since you were working so closely with the boss?

 

Taking your eyes off of the depressing sight, you decided to browse the rest of the stalls, taking note of the points required for the various items. You even managed to talk to a few workers, at least the friendlier looking ones. It seemed as though anyone you talked to were more interested in your accent and wanting to know all about merry old England, which you humoured in an attempt to make some connections and, hopefully, friends. It’s been a hell of a long time since you were able to socialise like this, without the constant fear of threats hanging over your head, and even longer since you were able to window shop as you were. You could get used to this.

 

Before long, your half hour was running out and so you started to make your way out of the hall, only to crash into someone in your haste not to be late. Quickly apologising and feeling hands on your waist to steady you, you look up, only to find your breakfast hunk grinning down at you with mirth in his eyes.

 

“No need for apologies honey, no harm done.” His dazzling smile along with the hands still on your waist brought a blush to your cheeks. “I actually spotted you from my post and realised I never got your name this morning before you rushed out on me. I'm James by the way.”

 

“I'm Maria, and at the expense of sounding like a broken record, I actually have to get back to work before I’m late,” you smile apologetically at him as he laughs, a bright smile exposed through his unruly beard.

 

“Oh, you're breaking my heart Cinderella! Starting to think I smell funny or something from the way you keep running away from me!” 

 

“I  _ promise  _ you it’s not that, you just keep catching me at the wrong times.” 

 

“Well, I’ll believe that, if I can see you later? In the game room after work?” the poor bloke looks at you with a hopeful expression, before quickly adding, “and no ‘maybe’s’ this time!”

 

You shyly smile at him while slowly backing away towards the exit, before replying “Fine, we’ll see.” quickly turning around, you make your way out of the hall before he has a chance to retort and head towards the stairwell to make your way up. 

 

You struggle to contain the smile on your face as your thoughts drift to James. It’s hard to be hit on these days without getting a  _ rapey _ vibe from the guy, and James was  _ definitely  _ not giving off those vibes. It felt good; the carefree nature of flirting took you back to the time before the end, making you appreciate the Sanctuary even more for being a place where such things are possible again.

 

You had to wait a short while before Negan showed up and let you both into his office, where you immediately took a seat on the floor again and got started with your work. Once again, you worked in relative silence before Negan broke it.

 

“I know what we need in here. Some fucking music!” he exclaimed, looking at you expectantly with raised brows as your eyes widen slightly. You were  _ really  _ hoping he wasn't going to ask what you thought he would. “You gonna sing a song for me sweetheart?”  _ Damn _ .

 

“I’m not actually that good, you know.”

 

“Bullshit. Sounded just fine from what I heard yesterday.”

 

“Okay, well, I don't know what to sing. I can't really remember many lyrics.” That was a lie but he didn't need to know that. Truth be told, you were incredibly insecure about your singing, and your long history with stage fright did nothing to help matters. A big personality like Negan was the last person you wanted to sing in front of.

 

“Oh, darling, I’m sure we can find something for you to sing.” he grinned devilishly as he leaned forward on his desk.

 

And so started a long back and forth between the two of you, mostly just Negan throwing songs at you, and you turning them down.

 

“How in the everloving  _ fuck  _ do you not know that song?! It’s a fucking classic.”

 

“Maybe in your time.”

 

“ _ Watch it. _ ” he tried to glare at you, fuck did he try, but, truly, he was loving the bantering between you both. You were a bit reserved, but once he broke through you shell and got you going, he found a lighthearted, down to earth girl who he couldn't help but be drawn to.

 

After quite a while of throwing songs at you, Negan resorted to singing them instead to try and get you going. Oh lord was he a bad singer, but the man didn't care and continued to screech out old Ramones and Nirvana songs, before resorting to Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder.

 

Eventually, you settled on singing an old Beatles song once Negan caught on that you were turning down songs just because you didn't want to sing, and that you did in fact know them. You could feel his gaze on you but you kept your sight focused on the papers in front of you, face burning red as you sang. Only once you finished did you look up to see the most brilliant smile on his face, eyes twinkling.

 

“That was fucking beautiful baby. You'd better sing for me more often. My little songbird.” The compliments and the affectionate words aimed at you made you quickly look away, embarrassed, and you carried on with your copying down while Negan chuckled away at his desk. 

 

The praise had caused a warmth to spread in your chest and, surprisingly, you were actually looking forward to singing for him again, if only just for the honeyed words that would come out of a certain tall, dark and handsome man sitting a mere few feet from you.

 

“So, James huh?” It was now close to the end of the work day and Negan’s words caught you by surprise. 

 

You furrow your brow at him, confused and wondering what the hell he's talking about before realising  _ who  _ he's talking about.

 

“Uhm, what about him?”

 

“Saw you two getting all nice and cozy in the market earlier.” His gaze on you was intense as he waited expectantly for a response and, honestly, you had no idea where the hell this conversation was going. You didn't even see Negan there during lunch. Was he lurking in the shadows or some shit?!

 

“Er, well I briefly met him at breakfast just before coming here. He just wanted to know my name I guess.”

 

“You like him?”

 

That caught you off guard. It felt as though you were being interrogated and you weren't sure you liked where this was going after having such a good day.

 

“I mean, he's nice I suppose. I haven't really talked to him much. He asked me to meet him in the game room after work so I’ll probably get to know him then. He is easy on the eyes though.”

 

“Really?  _ Him? _ ”

 

“What's wrong with him?! I bet any woman here would say he's good-looking.”

 

“The fucker looks like a damn homeless viking with that fucking beard. How is that good looking?!”

 

“Piss off, beards are attractive! Pretty much most guys with beards are handsome.”

 

“So , what, you find Simon attractive?”

 

“That's not a beard, that's a fucking pornstache. Although, he does pull it off.” you shrug slightly as you watch Negan, observing him absentmindedly scratch at his cleanly shaven jaw. 

 

“Huh.” he narrows his eyes slightly as he watches you get back to work, thinking over your words.

 

You don't know where the hell that conversation came from but you're glad it’s over. Before long, Negan is calling time on the day and asks you to bring him the work you've completed. Gathering the papers, you realise you've gotten through most of them and would probably be able to finish the rest by lunch tomorrow. That is, if you get the job.

 

You nervously stand in front of the desk as you expectantly await Negan’s verdict, watching as he looks over your work. Your palms sweat and your foot taps against the floor as the fucker takes his sweet time before he looks up, smiling at you.

 

“Well done sweetheart, this is good work. You've officially got the job! And you managed to get through most of that shitpile, that is very fucking impressive. You're back up here same time tomorrow to finish that off and then I’ll give you some other shit to do. Now, go get some dinner darling, you deserve it.” With one last grin, he nods towards the door, which you take as your cue to leave. 

 

You thank him before leaving, happy about the fact that you finally have a place here and more than ready to see your handsome, homeless viking.


	7. Chapter 7

You enjoyed getting to know James a little more when you joined him in the games room. The evening was uneventful, but enjoyable nonetheless. He told you about his family, what he used to do and even how he came to join the Saviors. You did the same, though you didn't go into as much detail as he did. After a little innocent flirting, you’d retired back to your room. You didn't realise it at the time, but that was the most you’d see of him for a while.

 

James had started leaving the Sanctuary on a regular basis with a bunch of other Saviors, starting the morning after the two of you enjoyed each other's company. You didn't know why he was gone so often, whether this was actually a regular thing, and you couldn’t exactly ask as he wasn’t there. It was a shame, you could’ve seen something happening between the two of you.

 

You’d found yourself sleeping a lot over the next few weeks when you weren't working or eating. Two years of barely sleeping through the night had caught up to you, and with the safety of the walls you were catching up on some much needed sleep.

 

Negan had started giving you more responsibilities at work, and you'd realised that he's trusting you more and more the longer the two of you are working together. He's even left you alone in the office, which you were thankful for as it started grating on your nerves having to drop all of your work just because Negan had somewhere else to be.

 

Slowly but surely, most, if not all, the paperwork in the Sanctuary went through you before reaching Negan, making sure everything was in order before handing them off to the big guy. While you weren't too thrilled about going up and down six flights of stairs multiple times a day in order to collect and deliver paperwork, it did give you the opportunity to familiarise yourself with the layout of the building, as well as get to know more of the residents.

 

Your relationship with Negan had grown with how much time you spent with each other. You'd think it would be weird, considering the significant age gap but the man could be a fucking child when he wanted to be. He seemed to relish in the time he spent with you. Unbeknownst to you, Negan never actually spent much time in his office before you came along. Sure, it was somewhere to hide when his wives were getting on his last fucking nerve or he just needed some time to himself, but other than that he got most of his work done in the comfort of his own room. Then you came along, with your quick wit and the fucking voice of an angel, and he's found himself wanting to spend all his time with you. He’d even started spending half of his lunches with you, lunches usually spent with his wives, just to squeeze in some extra time with you. Negan decided that he could listen to you talk with that cute little accent of yours for the rest of his, most likely short, life and he’d die a happy man.

 

Fuck. He had to make you wife, it was the only way. He had asked you a couple more times while you were bantering back and forth with each other, but you’d always laugh it off. No, that wasn't going to work with you. He’d just have to get you to fall in love with him.

 

Shit. He knew the first step to making you fall for him would come at the price of his discomfort.

 

It had been a few days since you’d last seen Negan as he was out with a few of his men to gather supplies. He left you with a key to the office, along with a stern warning not to allow anyone else apart from Simon in there, and left you to your work. You didn't see much of Simon, as he stuck to the lower floors of the Sanctuary to ensure no one was slacking with the boss away, but he did come by at the end of each work day to go over any problems you may have found or to keep you company for a little while.

 

You appreciated it. You didn't realise how big of a presence Negan was in your life, and with him gone for just a few days you found yourself missing the playful conversations you'd have with him. Needless to say, you were quite happy to see him grinning at you from behind his desk around the fourth morning after he left when you turned up for work.

 

“Did ya miss me sweetheart?” the cocky smirk was enough for you to regret missing him.

 

“I cried myself to sleep every night you were gone.” you deadpanned, causing him to chuckle.

 

You spent the morning catching him up on what he may have missed, and he seemed really vague about how his scavenging trip had gone, although he did inform you that there’ll be a long list of supplies that you'd need to retrieve at the end of the day when it should be inventoried.

 

You were having lunch with Negan at his desk when you noticed some black and white fuzz on his face, realising it's stubble upon closer inspection.

 

“The fuck you starin’ at?”

 

“You run out of razors or something?”

 

“Alright, you cheeky little shit. Get back to your fucking sandwich.”

 

Lips twitching as they fought off a smile, you did just that. It was pretty fun watching Negan grow out a beard over the next week, surprisingly his grows out pretty fast. You had to contain your laughter every time you caught him scratching at his chin, the most irritated look on his face every single time.

 

It made you wonder why the big lug didn't just shave the damn thing off, he clearly preferred the clean-shaven look on himself. Although, there were definitely no complaints from you.

 

You were right; men looked a thousand times better with a beard.

 

You found yourself sneaking glances at him while you were meant to be getting on with your work, unable to help yourself as you take in his rugged appearance. While his graying beard made him look older, it definitely did not take away from his good looks. It was unfair how effortlessly attractive this man was. No one man should hold this much power.

 

You were going through some inventory lists, making note of what supplies were running low, when you were interrupted by Negan’s walkie going off. It was Dwight, who’d just come back from a run with more than just supplies.

 

It wasn't long after Negan finished giving instructions to him that Dwight came knocking on the door, entering at Negan’s command with five men following him in.

 

The men fucking stank, making you wonder if you smelt that bad when Simon found you. They all kneeled in front of the desk, suggesting that Dwight informed them of that rule already. They didn't look all too friendly, and you knew for a fact that you would have run a mile if you caught sight of them when you were out there alone. They were all caked in blood and grime, though all were well-built. Clearly, they could take care of themselves out there.

 

Negan kept them kneeling while he was giving them the usual speech about the rules of this place, but you weren’t listening. From your place on the floor at the little table you'd claimed, you were eye level with the men, one in particular. He had turned his head slightly, blatantly keeping his eyes on you throughout Negan’s talk, and once he’d caught your eyes, he grinned lasciviously. You didn't like the way he was looking at you. It unnerved you, making goosebumps break out across your arms.

 

Your fidgeting and restless form caught Negan’s eye, who found the source of your uneasiness pretty easily from the way you'd dart your eyes towards the greasy man and then away again, hoping each time that he’d have turned away from you, disappointment growing seeing that he hadn't.

 

Well, that just wouldn’t fucking do.

 

Grabbing Lucille, Negan rose from his chair and slowly circled the men, swinging Lucille carelessly around as he does so.

 

You flinch slightly, watching as that barbed bitch gets a little too close for comfort to some of those men, even knocking the greasy man slightly on the side of his head, effectively bringing his gaze in front of him, and all his attention on Negan.

 

Negan winked at you when you sent him a grateful smile, before resuming his speech, never once stopping his little intimidation tactic.

 

“Now, I’m gonna reiterate my point about rape here, and this is a special fucking exception because I do _not_ like to repeat myself, but you ugly fucks look like you might need telling a second time. So! If _any_ of you fuckers even _think_ that that type of shit will fly around here, well, I’m sure Lucille here will _gladly_ show you how wrong you are. Hell, I even catch you making any of the women in here, any of _my_ women even the slightest bit uncomfortable, I’m gonna make you wish you got eaten alive by a fucking hoard once I’m done with you.”

 

Watching Negan put the fear of God into these men was doing all sorts of things to your head, as well as _other_ places. The look of determination on his face as he threatened these men made you believe every single word he was saying. You had no doubt in your mind that he would follow through on every single one of these threats.

 

To your only slight surprise, once Negan was finished he didn't offer the same options he gave to everyone new here, where you choose to work for point or become a Savior. Instead, Negan declared that they would all be on cleaning duty “until I fucking say so.”

 

When the men were cleared to leave, they each took one last look at you, the greasy man’s stare lingering on your form before exiting the office.

 

Maybe Negan _didn't_ put the fear of God into them. That thought alone made you feel incredibly unnerved.

 

“You alright?” Negan caught you staring at the door, and the concerned tone eased your nerves the slightest bit.

 

“Yeah, just a little thrown by them. You think they’ll cause any problems?”

 

“They better fucking not, or I’ll deal with the ugly fucks personally.”

 

You really wished that would have been enough to put your worries aside, but, unfortunately, that was not the case.


	8. Chapter 8

“Got some new residents yesterday.”

 

“Oh yeah, I think I heard about that. Did you see them? What were they like?”

 

“Yeah, there's five of them and they're all fucking skeevy as fuck. I saw them in the canteen at dinner last night, huddled together, looking shifty. They give off such bad vibes.”

 

“Did you tell Negan?”

 

“I think that he got I wasn't entirely comfortable around them, but what can I say? ‘I don't like the way they look.’? That's not a very compelling argument.”

 

“True, but it would be good for him to know, maybe he’ll have extra eyes watching them?”

 

“Hmm, maybe.”

 

You were in the stairwell with Sherry, on the floor below the office which, incidentally, was the floor where Negan and his wives resided in. You'd struck up a surprising friendship with her since that first awkward meeting, usually just meeting in the stairwell where she came for a smoke and striking up conversation during your many journeys up and down the stairs. One thing that you liked about her was that she always shared her smokes with you, although on this particular occasion you had to politely decline the death stick. 

 

It seems as though, for lack of a better term, freshers’ flu had caught up to you. You knew it was only a matter of time. Being around such a large number of people from all over the place in the Sanctuary after such a long time, as well as the poor state you arrived here in has resulted in a horribly sore throat and an even worse headache, so bad that what little light can get through the grimy windows has you squinting ever so slightly to try and protect your poor head. All in all, you were not happy to be out of bed. 

 

After suffering through another coughing fit, thanks to the smoke coming from Sherry, you quickly bid goodbye before making your way up to the office. 

 

Things were slightly hectic at the Sanctuary. With summer gradually turning to fall, Negan wants to ensure the Sanctuary has resources to spare in case of emergencies and in case the weather doesn't allow anyone to get past the gates in the coming months. This means that Saviors are frequently going out on runs to bring back anything and everything they can find, making all the inventory lists that you have to go over seem ten miles long, and getting longer with each day. The mechanics were also working on making the trucks ready for all types of weather, while engineers worked on ensuring the generators would be able to provide heat to the building as well as all the electricity required to run it.

 

All in all, you were in for a very busy few months.

 

Negan would grimace every time you so much as sniffled, making your patience wear thin. You were  _ not  _ in the mood to deal with the immature side of the man today.

 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Negan couldn't stop staring at you, the way you'd try to shield your eyes from the light coming from the huge windows behind him, and the painful sounding coughs wracking your little body, truth be told you were a sorry sight to behold.

 

“I think it’s like the apocalyptic version of freshers’ flu.”

 

“And what the fuckety fuck is that?!”

 

“You don't use that term in the US?! It’s the illnesses you get during the first few weeks of starting university. I think all the meeting new people, shitty food and lack of sleep causes it. Would've figured you'd use the term, or something similar, over here. Huh.”

 

“And here I was thinking all the newbies were a bunch of pussies.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

You  _ really  _ wished you were back in bed. The tennis ball sized pressure behind your eyes was doing nothing but hindering your ability to read the ledger on the table in front of you. It was making it harder than ever to read the scribble of points collected over the last week. You even tried bringing it closer to your face but that just made your migraine worse. 

 

With an angry huff you dropped the pad onto the table, knowing you're pouting like a fucking child but far past caring at this point. Catching sight of Negan’s raised eyebrow, you vent your despair.

 

“I can't read it! It’s a pile of wank. I thought only doctors had bad writing?! How the fuck can anyone understand this mess?!” you had to stop before you became to overwhelmed. No one takes being ill well, but being ill during the apocalypse is a whole other battle. It reminds you of how you'd get through it before: the food your mum makes only when you’re ill; being cocooned in all your warmest blankets; your parents babying you. Now you just get a dirty look thrown your way whenever you cough too close to someone and only have a threadbare throw to keep you warm in the smelly sleeping area. 

 

Negan couldn't help but smile at your mini ramble. It was fucking adorable. 

 

“C’mere. Let me take a look.” 

 

He’d turned in his seat so he was parallel to the desk, so you walked around it to hand him the ledger. You turned to walk back towards the front of the desk when you felt a thick arm snake around your waist and proceed to pull you down. Your cheeks burned as you found yourself seated on Negan’s lap, who acted as if nothing was out of the norm and turned his seat back to face the desk. 

 

“Holy  _ shit _ . Need to have a little chat with Frank because this shit is a fucking mess.”

 

You were stiff as a board as Negan casually rested his chin on your shoulder while reading through the illegible gibberish in front of him. You tried to keep down the coughs fighting their way out of you while surmising how easy it would have been to sue Negan for sexual harassment in a workplace before all of this. In the end, the coughs won, causing you to shoulder Negan in the throat. Having you on his lap probably wasn't as flirty as he hoped it would have been. 

 

To your surprise, rather than being thrown as far from him as possible, you felt Negan rub his large hand up and down your back, lightly tapping to help you through your little coughing fit. This isn't as bad as you thought it would be.  _ Huh _ . 

 

“You're gonna get sick.” you hated how weak you sounded due to your sore throat but it couldn't be helped.

 

“Don't worry ‘bout me, baby. You just get yourself back to bed. You're no good in this state anyhow.” with one last light squeeze around your waist, Negan released his hold on you. 

 

You made a weak case that you were fine and that there was too much work to do, but Negan saw right through you considering you were already making your way towards. You didn't even wait for his reply before you eagerly made your way out of his office, the sound of Negan’s laughter following behind you. 

 

You knew you most likely caught Negan on a good day, and you probably wouldn't be getting another day off any time in the near future so you were going to take full advantage. 

 

Once you were on the second floor, where the communal living area was, you heard someone call your name from the stairwell you had just exited. You turn just in time to see James barreling through the doors, blowing hair out of his face as he greeted you with a big grin. 

 

You hadn't had a chance to talk to the man properly since that chat in the game room all those weeks ago, and the few times you did manage to catch sight of him, he only had time for a brief wave before he was out on the road again.

 

“James! And here I was thinking I always run out on you! I've hardly seen you the past couple of weeks.” you smile warmly at him to assure there are no hard feelings, but he still looks a little sheepish.

 

“I know, I feel like a jerk for being so absent. I'm not usually on this many runs, but Negan’s been putting me on the different teams that go out for some reason so I’ve barely been inside the Sanctuary for more than an hour these last two weeks combined. But, I'm back for a couple of days so we should hang out.” His dazzling smile was almost enough to weaken your knees.

 

“I’d like that,” you replied, unable to stop the smile trying to split your face in half, “Negan’s given me the day off so I’m going to sleep off this cold but if I’m feeling better we could meet up in the game room again later?”

 

“I’ll be there. I wanted to- ” James didn't finish his sentence before he quickly dropped down on one knee with wide eyes, at the same time as you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder and a looming presence behind you.

 

Tilting your head back, you notice Negan standing behind you with Lucille draped over his shoulder, glaring down at James.

 

“I thought I told you to go to bed.” He wouldn't look at you, instead choosing to keep his eyes on James.

 

“I was just on my way there.” 

 

“Well, go on then.”

 

You didn't know what Negan’s problem was, but you didn't want to find out. So, with a small, albeit slightly confused, smile at James, you made your way to your room. Turning your head back, you quickly turned it back again as you caught both James and Negan staring after you. You were too sick to even try and tackle whatever the fuck that was.

 

The living area was mostly empty at this time, with only those who had been on the night shift present, as well as a couple of guards up on the catwalks.

 

Wasting no time, you quickly make your way to your bed space, practically ripping your shoes off your feet in your hurry to get in bed. As you made to close the curtain surrounding your space, you notice one of the men that arrived yesterday, the one that wouldn't stop staring until Negan bonked him on the head with Lucille. 

 

His bed was opposite yours, a few rows down, and he was sat on it and, yet again, staring. You suddenly felt cold all over as he smiled at you, looking more like a grimace, before you promptly shut the curtain in an attempt to get that image out of your head. 

 

Getting into bed, you tried not to think about the creep sat just a few beds away, and found yourself recalling what Negan’s arms felt like around you not too long ago, and the warmth you felt from him as you slowly drifted off into a restless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a beta reader for this story, so hit me up either here or on tumblr if you're interested   
> https://sucaritra.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

Hushed conversation woke you from what turned out to be a little longer than anticipated nap. There was no light coming in through the windows, and the clock on the far wall told you that you had missed dinner. 

 

After changing into clothes that hadn't been slept in and chugging half a bottle of water, you decided to make good on your promise to James and meet him in the games room. Pulling back the curtain to your bed space, you notice that the area is just as empty as when you came in this morning, save for a few residents getting an early night. The new resident that creeped you out earlier was also there, along with a couple of his buddies that he arrived at the Sanctuary with. You realise that the hushed conversation that woke you was from them, though that had abruptly ceased as soon as you made yourself known.

 

You made a speedy exit, not wanting to feel their stares on you for longer than necessary.

 

Entering the games room, you notice that most of the residents are here tonight, socialising, drinking, some playing ping-pong while others played various board or card games. It was a heartwarming sight to behold, people making the best of what they have and enjoying themselves in a time where most, if not all, have lost everything.

 

You quickly located James, who was sat with a few people you recognised, and made your way towards him, only to be stopped as an arm shot out in front of you halfway there. Your belly lightly collided with Negan’s arm, who grinned up at you from his relaxed spot on an armchair.

 

“ _ You _ look like shit.”

 

“Wow, if you talk like that to all women I can see how you managed to get five wives.” 

 

You noticed that Sherry was sat on a sofa close by, along with two other women who were both watching the interaction between you and Negan with confused expressions. You gathered they were wives, though you had only caught glimpses of them before now.

 

“Position number six is still available, baby girl.” he grinned and winked up at you, making you look away in a vain attempt not to get flustered.

 

“Oh I’m sure there are many positions available, but I’ll pass.” You’d missed the glint in his eyes and the devilish grin at your response as you caught James’ eye at this point, who sent a strained smile your way once he noticed you. You tried to start making your way towards him again when you realised that Negan still had his arm across your stomach.

 

“As much as I’d like to delve further into  _ that _ , I was serious when I said you looked like shit. I thought I told you to rest up?”

 

“I did. I only woke up ten minutes ago.”

 

“You haven't eaten?”

 

“Not hungry. I'm gonna hang out with James for a little bit.” 

 

Negan watched you go, narrowed eyes watching you stumble your way towards James. Everything about you was awkward, as if you were constantly aware of the movement of your limbs, shown in your slightly too stiff walk; your posture was fucking awful, your shoulders forever slumped, though he’d catch you trying to straighten yourself while working every now and again, only for you to slouch mere minutes later; and the fucking eye contact. Simon had mentioned that was pretty fucking annoying, and boy was he right. Just when he'd think he'd caught your attention, your eyes would immediately dart away. Though, he'd give credit where credit was due - he could see you'd been trying to work on that shit since becoming a member of the Sanctuary. 

 

You were a ball of nervous energy, and Negan knew he wasn't pursuing you because he was infatuated or lovesick. No. You were a conquest. And when Negan sets his sights on a woman -  one who may be a fidgeting, anxious mess but  _ fuck  _ were you easy on the eyes - there's not much that can stop him from fulfilling his  _ desires _ . Negan can wait, it'll just make the reward that much more  _ sweeter _ .

 

You stuck around for a little while, getting to know some of James’ friends. You instantly clicked with the two women at the table who you recognised from the market. 

 

Sheila was the oldest woman in the group and Sam was probably a couple of years older than James. They immediately struck up a conversation with you while the men talked about whatever the hell men talked about. Sheila gave you some good tips to make life as a lowly Sanctuary resident easier - the best times to go for a shower, what foods to avoid, what Saviors to avoid… - whilst Sam was more interested in what it was like working so close to Negan. Eventually, you were roped into a game of Parcheesi, though everyone did have a good laugh at your expense when you called it Ludo.  _ Fucking Americans _ .

 

By the end of the night, you had a smile stuck to your face from all the laughing at the boys over how competitive they’d get over a freaking board game, as well as the completely terrible trash talk. Only when your eyelids started to droop did you bid your farewells to the group, promising to meet up with the girls soon, and retreated back to your room.

 

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the beds had filled up by the time you'd made it back, and so you quickly and quietly made your way to the far end of the room as you suddenly found yourself craving the comfort of you barely-there bed and sorry excuse for a blanket. Drawing back the curtain, your eyes immediately hone in on the small lumps on your bed. Picking up the bottle, you recognise it to be the orange juice that's sold in the market. It’s sold alongside apple juice too, but being as stingy with your points as you are, you never got to indulge in your favourite drink.

 

Until now. The wrapped square next to the juice is a cheese and cucumber sandwich, and your stomach immediately growls at the sight. You'd managed to ignore your hunger up until the sight of food, and you wasted no time devouring it, along with downing half the juice, saving the rest for the morning.

 

With a full stomach and pleasant evening on your mind, you managed to fall into a restful sleep.

 

* * *

 

Though the stares never did subside, you had managed to avoid getting too close to the creepy new resident. That is, until about a week and a half after his arrival.

 

You were the last one to leave the canteen as you had worked into your lunch break slightly, wanting to finish going through the crop inventory as there wasn't much left to do. It was while you were making your way up the empty staircase, passing the third floor entrance and about to go up when you felt a hand grab your arm. 

 

Whirling around, your eyes took in the sleazy form of the man whose eyes constantly burned your skin.

 

“I'm sorry, didn't mean to startle ya.” 

 

“It’s fine, I’ve gotta get to work.” You tried to tug your arm out of his grip but the man wasn't budging. You tried to keep your breaths steady and not panic, knowing you'd need a level head if things go sideways.

 

“I hope I haven't been too intense princess,” - your eyes immediately narrow at the pet name - “you hafta understand though, it’s been a long time since I’d seen a woman, especially one as exotic as you,” - yeah, you weren't panicked no more, you were  _ pissed  _ \- “so it’s only natural for me to become so tempted by your beauty.” 

 

You were downright scowling at this point. You wanted your arm back and you wanted to get the hell away from this slimey wanker.

 

“Well, I’m afraid you're going to have to set your eyes on someone else because I’m just not interested.” You tried to pull back yet again, only for his nails to start digging into your skin.

 

“What, you with that burly prick I seen you with sometimes? Ah, you're one of those shallow bitches that are into all those male model types ain't ya? Of course you fucking would be.” He bared his yellowed teeth as he sneered at you, making your stomach turn and your heart beat faster at his abrupt change in attitude.

 

“Even if I was it would be none of your fucking business. Now, are you going to let me go or shall we wait for Negan to come down to see what the fuck is taking so long?”

 

He seemed to be thinking a mile a minute before he slowly loosened his grip, and seeing the opportunity, you quickly yank your arm back. The fury was still evident on his face as you wasted no time in turning away and quickly making your way up, rubbing at your arm once you were out of sight. 

 

You didn't know what to do.  _ Technically _ , he didn't actually do anything apart from grabbing your arm and spitting out some vile words. While you would love to see Negan beat the crap out of him, you haven't actually seen any punishments taking place at the Sanctuary since you’d been here, so you didn't actually know how he’d react. Maybe he won't even react at all and just call you a pussy for crying to him as soon as someone didn't treat you nicely. 

 

You were still running through all the different scenarios in your head when you arrived at the office letting yourself in, though you stayed in the doorway as several pairs of eyes immediately turned towards you. With wide eyes, you realise you'd just interrupted a meeting, as everyone but Simon and Negan looked as though they’d just risen from a bended knee.

 

“Sorry, do you want me to come back?” you looked apologetically towards Negan who shook his head.

 

“S'alright baby, they were just leaving. New residents.” he tilted his head towards the small group in front of him, consisting of three men and two women, all looking grimy and smelling of death. 

 

Your brow furrows slightly as you turn your gaze back to Negan. 

 

“Again?” You may not have been at the Sanctuary long but it’s hard to believe Negan welcomes survivors into his home on an almost weekly basis.

 

“Mhmm. Simon, assign them their posts.” 

 

“Sure thing, boss.” 

 

Your suspicious gaze followed the group out, as they passed you, only breaking it to return Simon’s smile.

 

Closing the door behind them, you turn your attention back to Negan.

 

“Does that happen often? Groups of survivors coming here so close together?”

 

“Nope. No it fucking does not.”


	10. Chapter 10

You were having a hard time concentrating on your work, your focus persistently drawn to the slowly darkening skin on your left forearm and the crescent-shaped indents on your skin. While his nails hadn’t dug in hard enough to break the skin, the evidence of the encounter remained.

 

Negan would be heading out soon, so you knew you had to say something now before you chickened out. 

 

Looking up from your arm, you see that Negan is already looking at you with narrowed eyes. When his eyebrow raises in silent question, you see it as an opportunity to discuss what happened.

 

“Uhh…” 

 

Okay, so maybe not quite as coherent as you were going for.

 

“C’mere.” 

 

Watching you visibly cringe, Negan could see the internal struggle going on from a mile away, and knew if he was ever going to get it out of you then he’d have to take charge. Otherwise, he’d be here for-fucking-ever.

 

Once you’d reached him, Negan proceeded to plop you on his lap again, turning the chair to face the desk. You figured he was trying to be cute again like last time, but you suddenly didn't feel as nervous now that you weren't able to look at him. 

 

Negan slowly reached for your arm, using his thumb to brush over the bruises.

 

“Wanna tell me where the fuck these came from?” His voice was absent of the playful beat usually present, instead replaced by a hard edge.

 

“It was, um, one of those guys that got here the other week, the one you hit Lucille with a little. He grabbed me a little too hard.”

 

“And why the fuck would he grab you?”

 

“He stopped me on my way up here, held on too hard when I tried to pull away.”

 

You went ahead and told Negan what happened, the abrupt change in the creep's behaviour, and even how he put you on edge all those times. Negan kept his hold on you the entire time, absentmindedly rubbing at your arm with one hand and tapping the desk with the fingers of his other hand. He didn't say anything once you were done, and you weren't exactly eager to turn around to see the expression on his face.

 

It was silent for awhile, long enough for it to get uncomfortable and for you to start squirming slightly, until Negan reached for the walkie on the desk and called out for Dwight.

 

“Yeah, boss?”

 

“Find that dirtbag that got here with that group the other week, the fucker that couldn't keep his eyes on the ground, and toss him in a cell. There better be a fucking guard there ‘til I get back.”

 

“On it, boss.”

 

And with that, Negan placed the walkie back on the desk and heaved a heavy sigh.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

Choosing to ignore you, Negan decided to promptly push you off his lap, albeit gently.

 

“You're with me today. Get your jacket and meet me by the trucks in ten.”

 

Slightly thrown, you cautiously make your way out of the office. This isn't the end of it. You know that when you get back from wherever it is you're going that Negan will deal with the situation at hand, you're just not sure  _ how  _ exactly he’ll do that. You don't think Negan will kill the guy, though it’s not like you've been here for as long as most people and have yet to see any punishments take place. 

 

Grabbing your denim jacket from your living space, you make your way outside to where all the vehicles are parked, finding Simon talking to a few Saviors.

 

“Well hello there! You coming with us today?” His eyes narrow as he takes in your attire, knowing for a fact that you hadn't been outside the gates since you'd arrived at the Sanctuary.

 

“Uh, I think so? Negan just said to meet him here with my jacket.”

 

You made small talk with Simon for a few minutes until Negan arrived and everyone started piling into three trucks. Negan ushered you into the front seat of the one Simon was driving, nudging you into the centre so he could get into the passenger seat. It was a tight squeeze, and if it was anyone other than these two, you'd undoubtedly be incredibly uncomfortable.

 

It was probably a couple of hours drive to your destination, filled with boring conversation between the men about the goings-on in the Sanctuary. At one point, Negan got you to sing along to the song playing from Simons CD, which would have been a hell of a lot more nerve wracking if Simon wasn't forced to keep his eyes on the road.

 

Looking out through the windshield, the sight of large, corrugated sheets of iron supported by wooden beams gave away that you’d arrived at your destination. Cars with deadly looking spikes coming out in all directions littered either side of the road, some with a few of the dead impaled on them. 

 

You didn't have to wait long before the gate was pulled open and your little convoy entered what looked like a vast community. 

 

The picturesque houses and well maintained lawns made the Sanctuary look like an absolute pile of shit. 

 

As all the Saviors filed out of the trucks, Negan took hold of your arm to stop you from following Simon out. 

 

“You want me to wait in here?”

 

There was a long pause as Negan seemed to contemplate that idea, though you secretly hoped he'd rebuff it. What would be the point of coming all this way if you can't even get out of the freaking truck?!

 

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he shook his head before replying.

 

“Listen. You stay close to me or Simon, no running off on your own. These people here? They work for me. But that doesn't mean they're on cloud fucking nine over it. You can't trust any of the fuckers here, you got that?”

 

At your nod, Negan reached into his jacket to pull out something shiny. 

 

“My knife!” 

 

You tried to snatch it from his grasp, wanting your only constant throughout this hellhole of an apocalypse back in your own hands, only for Negan to pull it back out of your reach with a stern look.

 

“Can I trust you with this? I like you sweetheart, but if you even think of pulling anything, well, let's just fucking say that I can get  _ real  _ creative with punishments.”

 

You stared at him, wide eyed and slightly offended that he’d think you'd turn on him just like that.

 

“You can trust me. I won't use it unless I have to.”

 

You maintained eye contact for a few more seconds before he relented and handed you your knife, which you placed inside your jacket. With one last nod, Negan exited the truck, holding his hand out to help you hop out of the truck.

 

The community was absolutely incredibly, with its tall walls, numerous, suburban homes, guard towers, and is that a freaking lake?! The people, however, did not have the sunny disposition a person might have had if they lived in a neighbourhood such as this before everything went to shit. Instead, you could almost hear their teeth grinding as you watched them welcome Negan with scowls on their faces and clenched fists. 

 

Negan seemed to relish in this as he was back to his jolly self. You watched as he sauntered over towards who you assumed to be the leader of this hostile group and slapped a heavy hand onto his back. You didn't even need to be within hearing distance to know that he was antagonising the poor man.

 

You waited until you caught Negan’s eye to motion that you were heading towards Simon who was watching over the Saviors. At his okay, you made your way towards the garage where there was a steady flow of Saviors. You stood by Simon’s side and watched as he rifled through the sparse shelves. 

 

“Negan said that these people work for him - what does that mean?” You made sure to keep you voice low as you questioned Simon.

 

“Half of everything they have belongs to Negan. They round up supplies for us every week and we drop by to collect. In return, we offer them protection. It’s how we survive.” Simon watched you carefully, waiting to see your reaction. 

 

”Hmm. Can't say it makes me feel good that we're stealing from others, but if that's the way it is, then so be it.”

 

You shrugged a shoulder as you looked at Simon, who gave you a skeptical look and kept staring until you got too uncomfortable and gave in.

 

“Alright, fine! I hate it. We’re taking food from other people and feeding ourselves - that's just wrong on  _ so  _ many levels. But it’s not like I can do anything about it, I’m a member of the Sanctuary and I know that if I want to stay then I have to accept it.”

 

“Do you? 

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Want to stay?”

 

You had to pause at that as you weren't expecting the question.  _ Did  _ you want to stay? Yeah, the means of your survival was barbaric and definitely not how you would have wanted to gather supplies if it was up to you, but what was the alternative? Making it on your own? You'd done that for far too long and in no way did you want to go back to that. You could join another community, but you had a feeling that Negan had his claws in most, if not all of the communities in the region so you'd probably be starving half the time and spending the rest of the time risking your life finding supplies for the man.

 

Suddenly, all the miserable faces in this community made a hell of a lot more sense.

 

And then you thought back to the evenings at the Sanctuary, where the people were free to laugh and relax and just plain enjoy themselves without the fear of the dead creeping up on them or any other outside threats because they know that they are safe. Whatever feelings they may have towards Negan and the way he runs the Sanctuary, it is their best chance of survival. 

 

Not just surviving.  _ Living _ .

 

“Yeah, I do.” You couldn't stop the small smile from gracing your features as you looked back up at Simon, who seemed to believe you as he smiled back and patted your shoulder before barking some orders at a passing Savior.

 

You leaned back against the wall, waiting for everyone to finish. There wasn't much else you could do really since you had to stick close by. 

 

You watched as a tall woman stepped into the garage, watching with a furrowed brow as the Saviors took their share of the supplies. She stepped towards the wall you were leaning against to let a Savior pass, before noticing you standing close by. She moved towards you and, to your dismay, you realised she was about to start up a conversation.

 

“Hi, um, what's going on in here?”

 

“Uh, you don't know?” If she was a member here, why doesn't she know what the hell happens here every week?

 

“Well, I’m new, you see, I haven't been here long.” ah, there it is, “I guess Aaron hasn't gotten around to telling us everything.” She side-eyed Simon who was picking things up and promptly dropping them on the floor if he had no interest in them. What a fucking child.

 

“Well, er, we’re collecting our supplies. It’s a weekly thing.”

 

“Oh. Right.” she seemed a little disappointed that you didn't go into any more detail, but what the hell else did she need to know?!

 

“Alright! Let's roll out men!” 

 

Hearing Negan’s holler from the street, you made your way towards Simon, briefly waving goodbye at the woman, and heading over to the trucks.

 

“How was your first time on the outside since arriving at the Sanctuary, sweetheart?”

 

Turning around, you see Negan strutting up behind you, wide grin plastered on his face as he reached you and placed a hand on your back, ushering you towards the trucks.

 

“It was alright. A little boring.”

 

He barked out a laugh, swinging Lucille by his legs, as Simon chuckled softly at your other side.

 

“Well, fuck me sweetheart. I’ll be sure to make our next trip a little more action packed!” 

 

You didn't catch the knowing look shared between the men as you asked, “there'll be a next time?” 

 

“Maybe, we’ll see. But  _ first _ , we have a little fucking business to attend to back home.”

 

Stepping up into the truck, your good mood at the prospect of another trip immediately took a nose dive as you were reminded of what was waiting for you at the Sanctuary. 

 

A little fucking business, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment guys! would love to hear what you think


	11. Chapter 11

You were given a front row seat to watch the event to be taking place, though you managed to weasel your way back into the crowd a little bit. All the residents who arrived within the last few weeks didn't get that option. Negan wanted the new residents to be as close to the action as possible, making sure they explicitly understand what it means to break the rules.

 

Taking center stage was the man himself, rambling on about said rules, repeating the mantra of how “the rules keep us alive”. Though, everything out of Negan’s mouth at this point was just white noise to your ears as your eyes refused to stray from who you've now learnt is called Roy. Likewise, Roy kept his sight on you, only looking away whenever Negan turned his way. 

 

You refused to let the man intimidate you. It was by his own doing that he was in this position now and you were  _ not  _ going to feel guilty over it. 

 

Well, that was easier said than done.

 

As much as you wanted to look away from the brutality in front of you, you owed it to yourself to keep watching. Whatever the circumstances,  _ you  _ are the reason why this is taking place today and it would be an insult to yourself and Negan to turn away, no matter how callous or painful it may be.

 

You didn't look away when Negan took Lucille and brought her down on Roy’s left forearm, mirroring where you were now bruised.

 

You didn't shield your ears as Roy’s groans of pain turned into screams of pure agony and anguish. 

 

The sound of your own heartbeat beating in your ears was almost enough to drown out his cries as he tried to crawl away from Negan’s relentless attack on his arm.  _ Almost _ . 

 

You watched on as Roy made a pathetic attempt at shielding his arm as he shuffled backwards on his arse away from Negan, only to be kicked back into the proverbial lion’s den by Dwight, allowing Negan to continue his assault.

 

Once he was satisfied Lucille had done her job, she was handed over to Simon so that his fists could have their turn, this time aiming for Roy’s face. 

 

Roy looked so fucking helpless as the powerful being that is Negan battered his face to the point where he became unrecognisable, before finally ceasing his attack. Once Negan stood to his full height, breath heavy, he gave one last kick to balls for good measure before turning to address the crowd again. 

 

And, again, it was all just white noise to your ears as you took in the damage done to Roy.

 

His arm was a mangled mess, bleeding in places where Lucille’s barbs had ripped his skin right off. You also realise, from the unnatural swaying of the limb, that at one point his shoulder had dislocated from the force of the blows. Already, his face was starting to swell in places, but there was too much blood rushing from his nose and a cut on his eyebrow to see much else. 

 

When Fat Joey and Dwight grabbed Roy off of the ground and dragged his, surprisingly, still conscious body out of the hall, it suddenly registers that everyone had been dismissed and were slowly making their way back to whatever it was they were doing before they were summoned to watch the punishment. 

 

Curious, you turned towards the newest residents, wanting to see their reactions since, like you, they had not had the  _ pleasure  _ of witnessing such scenes before. Surprisingly, though most didn't know each other as they had arrived separately, they were all bearing expressions of utter contempt as they exchanged looks between each other, before schooling their features and going their separate ways. A few briefly glanced your way, making you wonder if they knew you were the reason for Roy’s beatdown. 

 

You don't get to ponder that thought for long as your view is suddenly obstructed by a wide chest.

 

“You okay?” At first glance, Negan looked as though he wasn't all that bothered about whether you were doing alright, considering the events, but his furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes gave away his concern. 

 

You stare back, slightly confused, until you take note of your heavy breathing. Glancing down, you see that your hands are shaking quite aggressively, causing you to clench them at your sides in an attempt to calm yourself.

 

_ How long had that been happening? _

 

You can only muster up a shaky nod, making Negan let out a frustrated sigh as he turns away.

 

“C’mon. We’ve still got work to do.”

 

Wishing for this day to just be fucking over, you grudgingly follow Negan out of the hall and up to the office. 

 

Negan had you spend the evening going over more inventory lists, these ones belonging to his different outposts, before joining you on the floor at your little table to make a masterlist of all of his supplies. You ended up having dinner together in the office as you sat side by side to work on how to distribute the supplies between the posts so that each group had enough to last them through winter, taking emergencies and outside factors into consideration. As you weren't very knowledgeable with weapons, Negan would go over those with Simon. 

 

You were completely wiped out by the time you were finished. The notes and outlines you’d made would need some fine tuning, but for now you were done. So done, in fact, that while Negan did one final readthrough for the night, you ended up nodding off on his shoulder, practically dead to the world.

 

* * *

  
  


“You've got to be fucking kidding me!?”

 

Negan’s obnoxious shouting managed to rouse you from what was probably the deepest sleep you’d had since arriving at the Sanctuary, disorienting you slightly.

 

Turns out, Negan’s couch is a hell of a lot more comfier than your sorry excuse of a bed.

 

Sitting up, you rub the sleep from your eyes as you watch Negan pace in front of you, startling him when he turns to suddenly find you awake. That gets a laugh out of you, and Negan does his best to glare at you but you see the corner of his lips lift the slightest, taking the fire out of his stare.

 

“Sorry, boss, but one of them has a baby.” your eyes widen as you register what the unknown Savior on the other end of the walkie has just divulged, lifting your gaze back to Negan who clenches the walkie in a white-knuckle grip.

 

“Fuck!” heaving a heavy sigh, Negan snaps at the poor Savior, “send ‘em up with Simon and Dwight.”

 

Negan doesn't even wait for a reply before tossing the walkie in the drawer of his desk and dropping heavily into his chair.

 

You wait a few moments before tentatively asking, “more survivors?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

“Is there room for more people?”

 

“What sort of grade-A  _ asshole  _ does it make me if I turn away a baby ‘cause there's no room?”

 

“True.” 

 

You didn't have to wait long before Dwight led five prospective residents into the office, with Simon bringing up the rear. 

 

Like some of the newbies before them, this lot were in pretty good shape, with the three men packing bulging muscles on their tall frames and the two women, while lean, had hard, toned bodies from fighting to survive all these years. And, sure enough, in the arms of the blonde woman was a bundled up baby.

 

At probably no more than eight months old, the little boy was the cutest little shit you’d seen in a very long time. His large, brown eyes were taking in everything, his little head bobbing all around as he kept finding something new to set his sights on. While he may have been cute, the little guy was  _ loud  _ as he continued to cry out for who the hell knows what. The woman was trying her best to shush the boy as he continued to cry crocodile tears and take in his new environment at the same time.

 

She didn't look like she had a maternal bone in her body as she awkwardly held onto the boy while kneeling with the rest of the group in front of Negan. To your surprise, rather than bark at the woman to shut the child up, Negan proceeded to lift the baby into his arms and pace around the group while giving his usual speech, albeit a little louder to be heard over the shrieking.

 

When that still didn't work and you were sure your eardrums were just about ready to shatter, Negan surprised you even further by offering the boy to you. 

 

You tried to contain the glee as you eagerly took the baby in your arms, walking around the office and cooing gently. You listened halfheartedly as Negan questioned the group about the baby.

 

“His mom was part of our group, as were some others, but when our camp got overrun, she was one of the people that didn't make it.”

 

“We managed to save Lucas before a shambler got him.”

 

“That was about a month ago.”

 

“We've just been looking for somewhere he’ll be safe at, so he can get to be a kid.”

 

“Least he deserves with how things are now.”

 

You managed to calm Lucas down by softly singing him a lullaby, though that adorable little pout remained as he looked up at you with watery eyes, pulling at your heartstrings. 

 

You always did love kids. Growing up in a big family meant there were constantly babies running around, you'd even lost count of how many cousins you had. It had been so long since you'd seen something as innocent and pure as a baby in this world where death and destruction was around every corner that you suddenly felt a lump at your throat and found yourself forcing yourself not to cry. It all became increasingly overwhelming, and so you turned back to the conversation in an attempt to distract yourself. 

 

Turning, you find that the group had risen to their feet, watching you curiously. Realising they were waiting on you to hand the baby back, you blushed and looked anywhere but the many eyes on you as you placed Lucas back in the blonde woman’s arms. 

 

Once the group had followed Dwight out, you could hear Lucas begin to act out again, his cries carrying through the corridor and Negan’s office door. Turning back to Negan, you find that he’s already watching you with a strange look on his face. You look away and fiddle with your fingers, slightly embarrassed, though you’re not too sure why, before looking back again when he addresses you.

 

“Take an hour, sweetheart. Got some things to discuss with Simon.”

 

Wasting no time, you nod your understanding before quickly making your way out of the office, intent on using your hour to shower and get some breakfast in you.

 

Though, you can't help but wonder what exactly Negan and Simon need to discuss seemingly so urgently.


	12. Chapter 12

“Who's that?” 

 

“You've not seen Mason before?”

 

You narrow your eyes and try to recall if you’d come across the man who just entered the games room with Simon, exuding authority and power on par with Negan and Simon. You've been at the Sanctuary long enough now to know everyone’s faces, if not their names, and Mason’s was definitely a face you haven't come across.

 

“Nope. Who is he? Looks important.” 

 

You turn your attention back to Sam as she takes a swig of something that was most definitely homebrewed, given the smell. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when she offers you a sip, causing her to chuckle at your actions.

 

“He's one of Negan’s top guys, probably ranks after Simon.”

 

“How come I’ve never seen him?”

 

“I think he's been taking charge of the outposts. You probably just missed him when you got here. No idea why he's back now though.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“You know, he hasn't actually been here that long, compared to everyone else. Got here just a few months before you.”

 

This brought your attention back to Mason. How does one rise to the top so quickly? You voiced your wonder to Sam, who didn't disappoint.

 

“Well, he's just an all around good guy. Does whatever he's told, doesn't cause any problems.”

 

“You can say that about a lot of the Saviors though.”

 

“True, but no one shed blood they way he did. I don't know exactly what happened, but the gist of it is that there was an incident on the drive back from a pickup. Negan was there, I think they were attacked. Well, anyway, Mason basically took a bullet for Negan, and you know how Negan loves a good soldier. From then on, Mason was given more responsibility and I guess Negan trusts him since he's part of the inner circle.”

 

“Wow.”

 

Looking back at Mason, you see he's already looking your way. All it took was a wink from him before you quickly averted your gaze away from him, cheeks flaming in embarrassment at being caught looking.

 

You had the pleasure of meeting Mason up close and personal the next morning when you smacked into him just as you reached the top floor in your rush to not be late. With reflexes quick as lightning, he grabbed hold of your arms so you didn't take a potentially lethal tumble down the flights of stairs. 

 

Would you ever go a day without embarrassing the shit out of yourself?

 

Smiling apologetically, you squeak out an apology and thank you, though he laughs it off.

 

“Don't you worry about it honey, it’s forgiven since it looks as though you’re runnin’ late for work?”

 

“I am, but that’s no excuse for not watching where I was going, again, I’m sorry.”

 

And you really were. If it were anyone else, you probably would have winded them from the force of your little collision, but Mason was no ordinary man. If you had no idea about Negan, it would have been very easy to believe Mason was the one running the show. He definitely looked the part with his strong build, self-confidence oozing out of every pore and his dominant personality. Though he looked to be in his late thirties/early forties, it certainly didn't take away from his good looks as his striking green eyes and mousy brown hair gave him a certain charm.

 

“No more of that, it’s forgiven and forgotten!” The laugh lines around his mouth and creases in the corner of his eyes were so infectious that you found yourself smiling along with him. Thinking that was the end of it, you slowly edge around him to continue your way towards the office, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on your arm.

 

“Listen, before you dash off, I gotta say somethin’. I heard about what happened with that scumbag Roy.” 

 

You tense up immediately, all traces of the smile gone from your face as you recall your encounter with him and the subsequent punishment, thanks to your tattling. Though his warm smile does help to ease your guilt, if only slightly.

 

“I just wanted to let you know that he’ll be out of the infirmary in the next couple of days, but you have  _ nothing  _ to worry about. We’re gonna make sure he can't get near anyone again and try and pull another stunt like that. Hell, even if I gotta shadow him 24/7, then that's what I’m gonna do.” Your chest warms at his cheeky smile and wink sent your way, causing you to roll your eyes and huff out a laugh.

 

“Thank you, I appreciate that but as long as I don’t have to see him again, then I’m sweet.”

 

“That you are, honey.”

 

Does the Sanctuary have a siren call drawing all these hot as shit men to it that you don't know about?! 

 

_ One at a time Maria. If James turns out to be a dud then you can have a go at sinking your claws into this hunk. _

 

Doing your best to appear cool, you quickly bid goodbye before making your escape to the office. Although, you wouldn't be  _ you  _ if you didn't bump your shoulder into the door to the hallway during your escape, earning a hearty chuckle from Captain Green-Eyes.

 

The buzz of activity seems to never end at the Sanctuary and the first chills of the changing seasons is felt in every corner. Thanks to your tardiness, Negan sent you out into the chaos to seek out the Savior team leaders and hand out rotas for their shifts. Negan has had to move quite a few Saviors to outposts just to make room for all the new survivors that keep turning up on an almost weekly basis, causing a shake up of the Savior's different roles. Saviors with more menial jobs are suddenly finding themselves guarding the weapons stash or patrolling alongside the more trusted Saviors. 

 

All in all, it just meant more paperwork for you. 

 

Venturing outside to try and find Arat to hand over her papers, you pull your jacket closer to your body in a vain attempt to retain some heat. The slight nudge against your rib comforted you as you felt your knife in your inside pocket. After the incident with Roy, Negan let you hold on to it when you tried to hand it back after the Alexandria trip, saying you can keep it as long as you continue being a “good girl”. Pfft. Smug git.

 

You watch as a couple of trucks pile in through the gates and various Saviors emerge and immediately begin to unload the supplies. Catching sight of James, you quickly make your way over. It feels like you never see him anymore, which is a damn shame since you wouldn't mind looking at nothing  _ but  _ him for the rest of your, probably short, life.

 

His face lights up as soon as he spots you, grinning from ear to ear as he holds out his arms to you. You happily oblige, wrapping your arms around him as he playfully lifts you off the ground. He catches you by surprise when you feel him place a light kiss to the side of your head before placing you back on your feet. 

 

Trying not to let the red takeover your face, you look up at him and lightly punch his arm.

 

“Where've you been?! I feel like I never see you anymore.” Your bottom lip juts out slightly, genuinely disappointed at how little time you've spent together. James was probably the first real friend you'd made at the Sanctuary, inadvertently making him your source of comfort. And after the events of the last week, you could do with a bit of comfort, and just simply forgetting about all the bad that had taken place.

 

“I know, I know. It’s only temporary though! Once we’re good for winter, I’ll be stationed back at the Sanctuary like I used to be. Then you won't be able to wait to get rid of me.” 

 

Just as you were about to reply, you caught sight of Arat talking to Mason by the front gates, before starting to walk around the building, heading towards the gardens.

 

“Oh! I have to go! I've got something for Arat.” you flash James the papers in your hands, “Can we meet up later?”

 

“I’ll do you one better. I just need ten minutes to help with unloading and then you wanna get lunch?”

 

You beamed at him before nodding your okay and dashing off after Arat. You learned early on that Arat was a woman of few words, or, at least, she was with you, which you were always grateful for as it meant you didn't have to attempt any awkward small talk. 

 

Since you didn't have long to wait, you decided to wait for James by the front entrance, plopping down on one of the many picnic tables scattered about. Mason soon joined you, striking up a conversation so easily with you that you almost forgot how terrible you are when it comes to talking with other people.

 

You found yourself enjoying being in his company, and also completely agreeing with Sam’s description of him,  _ “he’s just a good guy.” _ And he truly was. In the short ten minutes you were talking, Mason managed to get out of you how you were feeling slightly guilty about how things went down with Roy, even though you knew you shouldn't. You were almost glowing in self-assurance after his little speech about how you did the right thing and how, through your actions, Roy won't be able to try  _ anything  _ with any woman here anymore. You were almost sad to cut you talk short; it was doing wonders for your self-esteem.

 

Walking side by side with James to the canteen, you couldn't help but grin as he oh-so-casually took hold of your hand, gripping it tight and pulling you close as you made your way through the Sanctuary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you guys think of mason? love him, hate him? would love to hear your thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

“I wanna cut your hair.”

 

“You're not going anywhere near my hair.”

 

“Oh, please?! I love Negan but it gets so damn boring in the boudoir. C’mon, let me at least even it out a little?”

 

“Hmm.” At Sherry’s pitiful puppy dog eyes, you conceded. “Fine! I guess it could do with a trim.”

 

You managed to finish work a little early today and met up with Sherry in the stairwell for a quick smoke. James was out scavenging who knows where and everyone else will still be working, so you figured hanging out with Sherry would be better than going back to your room.

 

With all of the new residents streaming in over the past few months, the communal living area was even more cramped and smellier than ever. You tried to spend as little time in there as possible these days.

 

Waiting for Sherry to be done with her smoke, you catch sight of Mason making his way up the stairs. He doesn't linger, sending a wink your way as he marches on up, heading towards Negan’s office.

 

Following Sherry through the double doors and down the corridor towards the boudoir, you try and take in everything you can. Though you have walked past the fifth floor doors everyday on your way up to the office, and not to mention your, albeit slightly odd,  friendship with Sherry, you have never actually seen what Negan and his wives’ living area is like. 

 

Suffice it to say, you were pretty damn curious.

 

The corridor alone was better looking than the rest of the Sanctuary, with various artwork lining the walls and fake potted plants dotted along as you went.

 

You followed Sherry through a set of intricately carved wooden doors that were just a touch more extravagant than the office doors, immediately feeling as though you’d entered another world. 

 

Rich, velvet curtains, plush rugs, ottomans, chaise lounges - the room had it all and more. You were in complete awe of the luxury these women were living in. You knew that they had it good, being with the boss and all, but you had no idea of the sheer amount of grandeur they resided in. While it’s not exactly a huge surprise, given who Negan is and his tendency for showmanship, it sure was jarring to the senses.

 

“This is fucking amazing.” Your wide eyes greedily took in everything around you, before landing where the glorious smell of a home-cooked meal was coming from. To the right of you was a modest sized kitchenette where two of the wives were busy cooking. 

 

Taking notice of you, they both smile politely before quickly resuming their tasks, flitting from one countertop to another.

 

“That's Tanya and Kira. Lovely girls. You'll like ‘em.”

 

Turning back to Sherry, half forgetting she was even there, you find that she's already walking away from you down a little narrow hallway to the left. Unsure if you're meant to follow, you slowly make your way towards her direction, only to awkwardly stumble back to avoid colliding with her as she promptly returns holding a little cosmetics bag. 

 

“C’mon, this way.” It was quite amusing watching Sherry take charge and order you about, considering your entire friendship was just you stealing her cigarettes.

 

You follow her into a decent sized bathroom, closing the door behind you, and frown at her when she gestures you to sit in the chair she’s placed facing away from the sink.

 

“I said just a trim. You don't need to wash my hair for that.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, let an ol’ girl have some fun.”

 

“This is your idea of fun?”

 

“It’s what I used to do before. I miss it. I don't get to do it nearly as much as I’d like to these days.”

 

Rolling your eyes at her second attempt to manipulate you with her doe eyes, you exaggerate a sigh before dropping down in the chair. Placing a towel around your neck, Sherry gently tips your head back and begins the process of shampooing and conditioning your hair.

 

And that's when it happens.

 

You have no idea where it came from, but all of a sudden you find yourself trying to stifle your sobs as waves of tears pour from your eyes. You're suddenly feeling incredibly overwhelmed and try to regulate your breathing as you feel Sherry softly comb your hair with her fingers to evenly distribute the shampoo all the way through. 

 

Alarmed, Sherry takes notice of your hitching breath and abruptly stops.

 

“Oh my god, did I hurt you? Did I get shampoo in your eye? What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing! Nothing, really, I think. I don’t even know why I’m so upset!” Your voice wobbles terribly and you're sniffling, trying to regain your composure, but it’s a losing battle.

 

“Oh, sweetheart! It’s okay! Aw, it’s alright. Believe it or not, this isn't the first time this has happened.”

 

“Really?” 

 

Smiling sweetly at your hopeful expression, she replies, “Really! Honestly, the first time I did Amber’s hair she started bawling her eyes out. It’s just one of those things, getting your hair done, get’s you feeling all nostalgic and thinking about the times before, about your life before all of this mess, all of the simple things you didn't realise you missed and the people left behind.”

 

You mulled that over, realizing why it was that you suddenly fell apart.

 

“I think it was ‘cause the last person to wash my hair like this was my mum.” A broken sob escapes your lips before you’re able to continue, “we hardly ever went to the hairdressers, only occasionally treating ourselves on our birthdays since it was always too expensive for us to go regularly. I try not to think about her, you know, cause it’s too hard to accept the real possibility of what's happened to her. And I feel so guilty for not thinking about her, cause I miss her  _ so  _ fucking much… I just… I don’t know, too much is just hitting me at once.”

 

Sherry, bless her fucking heart, listens sympathetically to your ramble before hugging you tightly with shining eyes. You imagined she was thinking of her own family as she held onto you a little tighter, breathing deeply. No words were said, because, truly, there are no words for such a shitty positions that everyone has found themselves in now.

 

After pulling apart and regaining your composure, Sherry gets back to work on your hair. She finishes quickly, which you're wholly grateful for as you were feeling a little embarrassed over your breakdown. You pushed those feelings away and concentrated on watching Sherry in the mirror as she grabs a comb and scissors.

 

“So, are you gonna tell me what's going on with you and James?” she raises an eyebrow at you through the mirror before diverting her attention back to your hair.

 

“I’m not too sure really. I mean, I like the guy, but we haven't spent enough time together. I see him about once or twice every couple of weeks, and I really enjoy myself when I’m with him, but it’s just too much time apart. I like him though, and he's said he likes me. This is the last run he's on now though, for the winter supplies, so once he's back we’re gonna spend some time together. I wanna see if there's anything real there or if I just like the way he looks, you know what I mean?”

  
  


“Mm, I get you. You can't really commit to any feelings right now can you? He is a good guy, you'd go well together. Plus, he’s very easy on the eyes.” 

 

Sherry’s little eyebrow wiggle had you trying to fight back a laugh so as not to ruin the cuts she's making, before replying, “mhm, that he is.”

 

Waiting a beat, Sherry asked, “what about Mason? Don't think I didn't catch that little wink he sent you before.”

 

“Nah, that's all harmless. He's just nice to me. We get along well. Besides, I’m just trying to take this one man at a time.”

 

After your haircut, Sherry blow-dried your hair, smacking your hand away when you tried to put it into a bun once she was done. Glaring at her back, you follow her out of the bathroom to find the relaxed form of Negan lounging on one of the plush couches with a drink in hand.

 

“Ooh la la, you ladies doing something you're not supposed to do in that fucking bathroom?”

 

You scrunch your nose in disgust at the lecherous grin seemingly glued to his face.

 

“Behave, Negan. I was giving her a haircut.”

 

Narrowing his eyes slightly at Sherry, he asked “what was wrong with her hair before?”

 

Rolling her eyes as she made her way towards the kitchenette, Sherry replied, “nothing, I was just evening it out a little, she wouldn't let me do much else to it.”

 

You tried not to get offended at them talking about you as if you weren't even there.

 

Looking back at you, Negan commented, “yeah, it was looking a little ratty before.” 

 

Oh, now you were fucking offended. Though, before you could get a word in, the man was talking again.

 

“You staying for dinner?”

 

That surprised you.

 

“Um… I don't know. What are you having?”

 

“Lasagna!” a voice shouted from the kitchenette, coming from the curly-haired woman, Kira. 

 

This really was paradise. Lasagna?! When was the last time you had that? Definitely not since the shit hit the fan. 

 

Rising from his seat, Negan threw an arm over your shoulder and led you to the dining table, pulling a chair out for you like the gentleman you knew he wasn't and taking a seat next to you.

 

The food was absolutely amazing, and though you did feel a little out of place at the start, surrounded by all of the wives, they made sure to include you in conversation and regale you with stories about themselves to make you feel a little less anxious. 

 

You were enjoying a particularly amusing story Kira was recounting regarding Negan’s, surprising, arachnophobia - “That fucker was the size of my fist, of course I’d get away from the hairy bastard!” - when you felt and heard something that literally shook you to your core.

 

An almost deafening bang was heard, quickly followed by the entire building shaking. Dust rained down on you from the ceiling as cutlery dropped from the table. Shouting a quick order through the noise, Negan grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you down under the table, making sure the wives all followed. You could hear the unmistakable crack of the windows fracturing from the pressure of whatever the fuck just blew up out there and you were suddenly entirely grateful to have Negan’s arm still over you, shielding you from whatever damage may arise. 

 

After what felt like forever, and once Negan deemed it safe enough to do so, you all scrambled out from under the table and immediately made a beeline for the windows. Luckily, none of them had shattered and only a couple of them had cracks running through them. 

 

Looking out over the Sanctuary, you could see the residents and Saviors running around and panicking, wondering what the hell had just happened and if they were under attack. 

 

“Holy. Shit.”

 

Drawing your eyes up to Negan, you follow the direction of his eyesight to find the source of his ashen face. 

 

Out in the distance, thick black smoke quickly rose through the air, visible even in the quickly darkening sky, the base of which glowed orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait! real life is so overwhelming and tiring right now, but i got a couple of kudos today and put my head down and churned this out, so know that your comments and kudos are 100% helpful and mean everything!


	14. Chapter 14

“James is out there. You think he's caught up in that?” you’re very aware of the increased thudding of your heart as your eyes refuse to stray from the thick plume of smoke in the distance.

 

As soon as Negan was positive that there was no immediate threat or danger, he’d left the boudoir with nothing more than an order to all the wives and yourself to stay put. You barely registered his exit as your mind turned a million miles a minute trying to come up with a plausible motive behind the explosion.

 

“He's a survivor, I’m sure he's fine,” Kira’s words did little to calm your nerves, though her comforting hand on your shoulder was a nice touch. “Besides, even if he is caught up in that, you never know, he might’ve been the one to set it to distract some walkers or some other threat. You never know.”

 

You didn't think of that. It was a tactic you’d used yourself in the past whenever you had found yourself trapped by the dead with no escape. Sure, you’d never caused massive explosions to distract the rotting hordes, but you didn't have the supplies that the Sanctuary and it’s Saviors had. Maybe this was a particularly large horde that needed maneuvering away from the Sanctuary?

 

“That's not a bad idea, but it is wrong.”

 

The sudden, distinctly male voice in the room full of women was enough to bring your guard up and immediately tear your gaze away from the window, only to land on Mason. He smiles warmly at you before his attention is drawn back to a slightly offended Kira.

 

“And how do you know that? Hmm?”

 

Mason slowly makes his way towards you as he replies, “because, he and the rest of his crew have no business being anywhere near whatever the hell that was.” Once he was standing in front of you, Mason turned you back around to face the window, reaching around you and pointing in the opposite direction of the fiery mess. “There. That's where they went scavenging. I organised their route myself. They're nowhere near it.”

 

The relieved sigh that escaped your lips caused Mason to squeeze your arm in reassurance as you smiled up at him, wholly grateful towards him for lifting the suffocating weight from your shoulders.

 

“Not that it’s not nice to see you, but what are you doing up here?”

 

“Negan sent me up here to watch over you ladies, make sure nothing big goes down.”

 

“You mean bigger than a giant explosion that rocks the entire building and can be seen for miles?” you can't help but raise your eyebrow at him, slightly incredulous.

 

Huffing out a laugh as he shakes his head, Mason concedes your point, “alright, little Miss Snark, what do you ladies do to pass the time around here?”

 

You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to tell him that this was your first time in here, before turning towards the closest wife, who just so happened to be Tanya.

 

“Well, usually we've got Negan to bounce on to pass the time, but that probably won't work now.”

 

“No, probably not.” You couldn't help but grimace slightly at that _lovely_ image in your head now.

 

“Uhm… I think we've got some cards around here somewhere?”

 

* * *

 

With Mason watching his girls, Negan could direct all of his attention on the fucking shitshow that decided to interrupt his dinner. He stood out on the balcony of the first floor, giving his Saviors time to gather in the games room down on the ground floor. No matter where he turned his head, the opaque column of smoke always lingered in his peripheral, seemingly a constant in the scenery surrounding the Sanctuary,

 

Negan’s gloved hand clenched around Lucille at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind him, only to relax seconds later as he recognised Simon’s gait.

 

“Everyone’s ready boss.”

 

With one last long look at the blemish in the distance, Negan turned on his heel and made his way inside to address his people.

 

The plan was simple, they’d done this many times before. The explosion was a clear sign of survivors, how many, he didn't know. As with the discovery of survivors in the past, Negan will send out a group of Saviors to locate the group and “recruit” them to join the network of employees providing for the Sanctuary. If there are refusals to bend the knee, then some sorry fucker’s brain matter painting the ground should do the trick. If the stupid fucks _still_ refuse, well, then Negan gets to have his fun.

 

Once the crews chosen to venture out and hunt down the culprits of the eyesore had been briefed and sent on their way, Negan decided to head back upstairs where he can wait for news on the expedition in the comfort of his wives.

 

And future wife.

 

Entering the boudoir, Negan spots his wives, minus Sherry and Amber, sat around a table with Mason playing cards. You watch as he searches the room for the other two wives, quickly taking notice of them through the open bedroom door before his sight finally lands on you lazing on the chaise lounge. You scooch over and make room for him as he makes his way towards you and drops down next to you with a heavy sigh.

 

You know it’s going to be a long night for your leader, so you sit in comfortable silence, leaning ever so slightly against his arm and watch the highly competitive game of Go Fish taking place in front of you.

 

* * *

 

“Last we heard from ‘em was four hours ago.”

 

“They would've been close to the source back then. No communication for four hours is not a good sign.”

 

“Well, shit, Einstein, ya fucking think?!”

 

Negan’s smartass retort to Fat Joey was enough to rouse you from your sleep, though you kept your eyes closed as you registered Simon getting the discussion back on track.

 

“We’ve probably got another Alexandria situation, thinking they can kill us off and it’ll all be fine and dandy.”

 

“If that's the case, then another big show should put things right.” You weren't sure exactly what ‘big show’ Mason was referencing, though you could guess it would be something you'd rather be ignorant of.

 

“Taking that many men would leave the Sanctuary vulnerable. Luke’s crew are most likely walker chow at this point and taking the amount of men you're suggesting will leave this place virtually defenceless.” the obvious challenge in Simon’s voice would've been enough to show the shock on your face if you weren't being a sneaky little eavesdropper right then.

 

“I’ll stay behind. If so much as a scratch befalls the Sanctuary then Negan can take it out on me. Hell, he can demote me if he wants but nothing’s gonna happen. All of the communities are, for once, in line. And it’s not like we haven't left the Sanctuary like this before, we always come back to her. You need to relax Simon, the stress is showing on that pushbroom you call a ‘stache.”

 

“Alright, ladies, put the claws away. These pyro-fucking-maniacs clearly need to be shown who the big dicks are around these parts. Mason, you're in charge while we're gone. I want updates at the top of every hour through the long range talkies. I couldn't give two shits about anyone below this floor, but if I hear there was anyone up here that shouldn't be? Well, getting demoted will be the least of your fucking worries.”

 

The clear threat brought goosebumps to your skin. Through his charming grins and carefree attitude, it’s easy to forget the brutality that's contained within Negan, the savagery which establishes Negan’s position as leader of the Saviors.

 

“Right, get the fuck out of here. We leave in twenty.” waiting until the door was closed behind his men, you're slightly mortified to find Negan addressing you, running a gentle hand over your hair, “So, what should I do with sneaky little eavesdroppers?”

 

Opening your eyes, you find that you're still on the lounge, though now you're leaning heavily on Negan’s arm where you undoubtedly fell asleep. Feeling somewhat chastened, you smile sheepishly and mumbled an apology as you lift yourself off of him.

 

Negan’s signature smile tells you that there are no hard feelings, though you feel your heart drop to your stomach when his heartbreaking smile is quick to vanish, replaced by a more serious expression. Reaching for your hand, he gives it a light squeeze as he looks you straight in the eyes.

 

“You still have that knife I gave you?” at your nod, he asks, “you got it on you?”

 

“I left it in my backpack, I didn't think I’d be allow to carry it.”

 

“As soon as you get a chance, you're gonna go get it and come straight back up here. Don't let anyone see that you've got it.”

 

“I don't understand. You think something will happen while you're gone?” You figured Simon was just being paranoid, making sure all bases were covered, but Negan was really starting to scare you.

 

“No. But I’m not willing to take that chance. I wouldn't be where I am today if I disregarded shit like that.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be careful.” You watched him carefully as he relaxed at your words, before softly uttering, “Come back soon, yeah? This place feels a lot safer with you here, surprisingly, and you've got me all paranoid now.”

 

“Baby girl, I’ll be back before you fucking know it. I've still gotta make you mine.” There's that killer smile of his that manages to bring heat to your cheeks and make you try your hardest, and fail, to not smile back.

 

“If you had mentioned how good the food was up here back when you first proposed, you might be speaking to wife number six right now rather than just your secretary.”

 

“Oh, sweet girl, you're not _just_ anything. You are so much fucking more.”

 

Before he could elaborate any further, a voice crackling through the walkie signaled that it was time for Negan and his men to leave.

 

After taking in your features for a few seconds more, Negan rose from his seat, grabbing his jacket and Lucille.

 

You watched in slight awe as he wore his cocksure leader personality in tandem with his jacket, gripping Lucille tight and heading for the door.

 

Throwing one last cheeky wink your way, you watched Negan leave to unquestionably bash in a couple of skulls, recruiting more worker bees in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry with how late this is! we've finally moved house now so there shouldnt be as long to wait for the next chapter, though i can't make any promises i'm afraid.  
> please keep the comments coming, they keep me so motivated! let me know how this chapter is xo


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi, Lucas is the baby that arrived with the group in chapter 11

The tension was thick in the cab of the truck as they drove along the road, not even Simon’s shitty country CD was playing to cut through the heavy atmosphere. Taking in a deep breath, Negan watched as the lightening cloud of smoke grew ever closer.

 

He wasn't  _ worried  _ per se, of course not. Though, he couldn't say he was entirely happy with the situation at hand. The  _ not knowing _ of what they were walking into was beginning to set his teeth on edge. Not hearing back from the first team that was sent out to investigate wasn't helping matters any either.

 

The changing seasons could well and truly be felt now, the temperature having dropped low enough to turn the end of his nose red, his Saviors not faring any better. Negan would have much preferred to be lazing around with the wives, engaging in certain  _ activities  _ to bring his body temperature way up. Or better yet, a fidgety little Brit warming up his side, just as she did earlier today. 

 

“No fucking way.”

 

Removing his gaze from where it was stuck on Lucille in his grip, Negan raised his head to see what had caused his right hand man to sound so incredulous.

 

“You've gotta be shitting me.” 

 

Keeping his eyes on the man who wasted no time in staring daggers at him, Negan stepped out of the truck and sauntered over towards the group, his men following close behind. 

 

“Well, well,  _ fucking  _ well. Prick! Fancy seeing you here! What the fuck  _ are  _ you doing here?”

 

Negan’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the man, putting his energy into focusing on Rick, as he couldn't be a hundred percent sure that he would be able to school his features if he let his sight drift to the burning wreckage directly behind Rick. Afterall, he did have an image to uphold. 

 

“Probably the same reason you're here. Haven't found any signs of who did this, but we ain't been here long.” 

 

Negan took great pride in the obvious distaste Rick had in having to answer to him, the control that slips from his grasp oh so quickly, all because Negan had arrived on the scene. Deciding to throw the prick a bone by saving the teasing for another time, Negan does a quick count of everyone that arrived with Rick. Most of the faces he recognises to be from Alexandria: the hot samurai lady; Rick’s redneck guard dog - Darren? Darrell?; the pregnant widow was also, surprisingly, there, along with a few more. The rest of the group was made up of Hilltoppers, with the long-haired pretty boy up front and center. 

 

Where not too long ago Negan was slightly uneasy with bringing as many men as he did from the Sanctuary, now he was somewhat grateful that his men outnumber his employees.

 

Not wasting any time due to the slowly increasing numbers of walkers in the area, Negan divided the ragtag group in front of him into smaller units, consciously splitting up as many of the Alexandrians and Hilltoppers as possible, or at least the ones that looked like the biggest threats. Not willing to blindly trust Rick’s word, Negan pairs himself with him. If Rick was lying, and he had anything to do with this or his missing men, then he wanted to be close enough to let Lucille work her magic.

 

Once the teams started to spread out and look for any signs of the perpetrators, the Saviors consciously keeping an eye out for any signs of their missing men, Negan gave in and took a good look at the burning wreckage before him. The damage was so severe that the man had no idea what the building was before it went up, the fire having charred the rubble left behind and the explosion leaving a significant crevice surrounding it, making any attempts to get closer highly risky. 

 

Dragging his eyes towards Rick and Fat Joey, he motioned them to follow as he lead the way towards a convenience store that, like all the buildings in the area, had its windows shattered, no doubt from the explosion. 

 

After taking down a couple of the dead and doing a quick sweep, the trio took their time picking apart the store, searching for any signs of life or of anything valuable. 

 

“ _ Rick _ ,” Negan sing songed, “I couldn't help but notice all yer little friends with you today. I fucking  _ hope  _ you didn't leave my little goldmine you call home with no one to protect it. And that little one-eyed psycho kid of yours doesn't count as protection.”

 

Clenching his jaw, Rick tried to keep the contempt out of his voice as he replied, “We’ve had an influx of survivors lately, plenty of people to help protect Alexandria while we're away.”

 

“Is that right? New residents. Huh.”

 

Letting Rick’s words register in his mind, Negan felt a cold tendril of dread wrap around his heart, something that he hadn't felt in a  _ long  _ fucking time.

 

“Ya know, Rick, it’s funny you should say that. We've had a whole fucking mob of survivors showing up on our doorstep over the course of a few months.”

 

Negan watched Rick narrow his eyes in suspicion, before replying, “The Hilltop’s had some new citizens too. That's quite the coincidence.”

 

Before he could reply, Negan’s walkie went off, informing him that one of the teams had found something. Making sure Rick and Fat Joey were following, Negan made his way towards what appeared to be an indoor carpark with the open spaces in the walls boarded up. Before he could step inside, he was once again interrupted by wis walkie.

 

“ _ Negan? _ ”

 

The signal was pretty shitty considering how far away they were from the Sanctuary, but Negan would’ve recognised that accent anywhere, even through all of that static.

 

“Maria?”

 

Even Rick managed to pick up on his surprise but it was too unexpected for Negan to try and hide it. Where the fuck did she get a walkie from?!

 

“ _ You ……back ……-ling them…… _ ”

 

Negan strained to hear her through the crackling of the reception but he had no luck.

 

“Sweetheart, need you to try that again, you're breakin’ up on me.”

 

It seemed as though all three men held their breath as they waited for a response, hearing nothing in return.

 

“Babygirl, can you hear me? You still there?”

 

Nothing.

 

Negan didn't leave her with a walkie, meaning she must have gone out of her way to get one just to reach him. That did not bode well for the Sanctuary.

 

Putting on his mask of confidence to hide his growing worry, Negan resumed making his way into the carpark.

 

“The fuck are you two waiting for? Let's go, pussies.”

 

Rick knew all of that swagger was just for show, but he wasn't stupid enough to challenge Negan on it and instead followed behind him after sharing a look with Joey.

 

The carpark consisted of the ground floor, plus four levels above that. The ground floor was littered with freshly killed walkers, no doubt the work of one of the other teams, and as soon as they made their way up to the first level all three men were on high alert as they saw the first signs of someone making this place home. 

 

Tin cans on wires that must have once been intricately set up as a survivalist alarm system were now laying uselessly on the ground, as well as other knick knacks and homemade devices that would have alerted anyone residing up here of any intruders or stray walkers. 

 

Continuing on their way, the men reached the second floor, taking in the scene before them in shock. 

 

Negan was eerily reminded of the communal living area back at the Sanctuary as he took in the rows upon rows of bedspreads and sleeping bags laid out across the floor. Making his way through, he took note of the things that were left behind, shit no one actually needed anymore. Stepping over books and empty food packets, the trio continued on to the third floor where they met up with Simon and a few Saviors and Alexandrians. 

 

Again, the floor was covered in bedding and personal artifacts. 

 

The group started picking its way through the clutter for anything useful as Simon gestured for Negan to follow him.

 

“You're gonna wanna see this.”

 

Simon lead Negan to a small box that was set up near a sleeping bag. Peering into the box, Negan used his gloved hand to grab the only two things in there. The first was a babygrow that was covered in dried blood. Negan breathed a quiet sigh of relief to find that there was no blood on the inside. The second item was a soft, blue, baby blanket. Simon lifted one of the corners and presented it to Negan, looking somewhat disturbed.

 

The embroidery was not the best work, considering this person stitched it with the dead roaming around just a stone's throw away, however the white was easy enough to read on the blue background -  _ Lucas _ .

 

Negan, for once, was speechless as he tried to make sense of all of the random bits of information he received in the span of less than half an hour. 

 

“You guys! You need to see this!”

 

“Oh what the fuck is it now?!”

 

Negan didn't know how much more fucked up info, that didn't actually make a lot of sense, he could take, but made his way up to the fourth and final floor anyway, hearing a slight crackle come from his walkie as he does so.

 

Negan didn't have time to take in the supplies located on this floor, instead, the sight of Rick’s face as he looked over a piece of paper he was just handed made him head directly towards him.

 

He hadn't seen that look on his face since the night of the lineup when he officially introduced himself and Lucille to Rick and his group. 

 

“ _ Negan?! You there? _ ”

 

Hearing that sweet voice come through much clearer, Negan reached for his walkie with one hand whilst simultaneously snatching the paper from Rick with the other, almost catching him with Lucille in the process. He brought the walkie to his lips, though words seemed to fail him as he looked at what happened to be a map in his hand.

 

“ _ Negan? If you can hear thi……to get back right now……I don't know what to do……We need you. _ ”

 

Negan stared down at the little crosses strategically placed on the map. The little crosses that marked the Sanctuary, Hilltop, Alexandria and even the Kingdom. There were detailed routes on the most efficient ways to get to each community, details on the size of each one and even what types of supplies they had. 

 

“ _ Negan? Please… _ “

 

Maria’s broken voice was enough to break Negan away from that troubling map, quickly shoving it into Simon’s hands before replying.

 

“I'm right here babygirl, don't you worry. We’re coming back darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought of the chapter and how you liked the switched perspective! xo


	16. Chapter 16

You watched Negan’s convoy of Saviors drive through the gates from your spot at the window, before making your way out of the boudoir. As there was no telling how long Negan would be gone for, you figured you'd grab a few articles of clothing since you needed to retrieve your knife from the communal living quarters anyway. You noticed a lot of hushed conversations on your way down to the second floor; it seems as though the residents were still spooked by the events from yesterday, and rightly so. You just hoped Negan would return soon and bring some good news about yesterdays incident. 

 

An agitated crowd did not seem like it would end well.

 

You returned Mason’s sweet smile he sent your way as you passed him on the stairs before continuing on, hoping to get some breakfast out of the wives if you get back soon enough. Despite the situation, you were gonna milk your time with them for all it was worth. 

 

As usual for this time of the day, the community living quarters was mostly empty, the night shift workers being the only ones present and getting some much needed sleep. Wasting no time, you made your way to your corner, not bothering to open your curtains as you simply slipped in and started gathering a few belongings to place in your backpack. 

 

Just as you were finishing up and placing your khanjar inside your denim jacket you were wearing, a raised voice caught your attention.

 

“I don't fucking care! I'm sick of waiting. We should do this  _ now _ .”

 

“Keep your voice down! They're still too close for you to blow this for us now. You know the plan, we wait for the Chief’s orders,  _ not  _ before.”

 

You could no longer hear the argument and, assuming they’d lowered their voices, you quietly made your way to your curtains. Stealthily peeking out, you found the source of the voices, a small group of four that were huddled close together in the opposite corner from you. It took you a moment to recognise them as some of the newer recruits, having only been here a few weeks at most, however, they hadn't actually arrived together. 

 

Your brow furrowed slightly as you strained to hear more of their conversation, disappointed when you couldn't even catch a whisper. 

 

You speculated what little you heard could have meant as you returned to your previous task. Being mindful of the sleeping night workers, you had packed your few items as quietly as you could manage, so it was safe to assume the secretive group were unaware of you in their immediate vicinity.

 

Though you hadn't heard anything specific, you'd learnt over the years with the end of civilisation that anything suspicious should always be a cause for concern. 

 

Whilst you were waiting for the group to finish their conversation and disperse so that you yourself could make your exit, you thought back to the last few weeks. 

 

The influx of survivors arriving at the Sanctuary since you'd arrived, and even before your arrival, was definitely peculiar. Though it wasn't unheard of to come across survivors out there, those occurrences tended to happen infrequently. Hell, you could go an entire year without seeing another living soul, and months if you were actively searching for survivors. You could tell that Negan had begun to get suspicious, his jaw clenching and the vein at his temple looking just about ready to pop every time a Savior entered his office to inform him of a group's arrival, though his features were expertly schooled in time to give his introductory speech.

 

You weren't informed of such matters, though you did notice the steps Negan took to ensure that the groups didn't become more trouble than they were worth by making sure each group was split up when they were assigned their work details. So, while some of these members of this little ‘hush-hush’ group may have worked together, they still appeared to be a little too familiar with each other, from your perspective at least, for a bunch who arrived at the Sanctuary at separate times. 

 

Your gut was telling you that something was wrong here, but you were lacking too many pieces to even attempt to put this puzzle together. 

 

After a considerable amount of time, you risked peeking out again, finding you were alone once again amongst a handful of sleeping neighbours. Snatching up your backpack, you wasted no time in making your way back up to the boudoir.

 

Your entire journey up there had you replaying the little piece of conversation you overheard, wondering if you were just being paranoid and sensing trouble where there wasn't any. Maybe, Negan’s absence had a bigger impact on you than you realised, especially after the unexpected after-dinner show the night before, making you feel as though you were in danger without him around to protect you…

 

Nah. There was definitely something fishy going on around here.

 

You once again passed Mason on the stairs, who winked at you as he brushed passed. It made you feel better that Mason was here, you knew he was entirely capable should anything go wrong. 

 

Back with the wives, you had a late breakfast with Sherry and Kira, before settling down on one of the many plush sofas, chit-chatting about nothing important and trying to keep your mind from the mess that is the world outside the Sanctuary gates.

 

Time seemed to go at a snail's pace for you now that you don't have work to occupy your time, though that boredom promptly ended when lunch time rolled around. 

 

While the girls were getting a start on making lunch, you made your way over to the window, watching the now white column of smoke in the distance. Moving your gaze onto the courtyard in front of the Sanctuary, you watched the few Saviors that remained as they stood guard along the entrance gate and along the fence, on constant alert for any threats approaching their home.

 

Just as you were about to turn away and offer your help in the little kitchen behind you, your attention was caught by seven men making their way out of the factory and across the courtyard. You watched, slightly confused, as each man stealthily approached a guard, standing behind a Savior each in tandem. 

 

“No.”

 

“What’s that, honey?” Tanya made her way to you as she heard you whisper, but you barely registered her presence next to you as watched, horrified, at what was about to happen down below you, knowing there was nothing you could do. 

 

Like a well choreographed scene, the men slowly raised their guns at the same time, the Saviors not even having a chance to turn around as they were all shot through the back of the head, execution style, by the very people they were protecting. 

 

“Oh shit!”

 

You could hear Tanya screaming next to you, the other wives running over towards you, wondering what the hell is going on, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, watching the men remove the weapons from the dead Saviors like vultures. Hearing more gunshots, you noticed the men didn't seem fazed, carrying on with the task at hand. 

 

Needing to confirm your suspicions, you quickly make your way towards the door, one destination in mind.

 

“Where are you going?! You can't go out there!”

 

Hearing Sherry’s pleading tone, you turn towards her as you get the door open.

 

“I just need to see something, I'm only going upstairs. Does this door lock?”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“Good, lock it, shove furniture in front of it if you can, I won't be long.  _ Don't  _ leave, and  _ don't  _ let anyone in but me.”

 

You didn't wait for her to reply, instead quickly shutting the door behind you and rushing to the stairwell. You could hear thundering footsteps all along the staircase, unsure whether they were coming up or down, or if they were friend or foe. You didn't wait to find out, instead making your way one floor up and using the key Negan only just a few days ago had entrusted you with to open the office door.

 

Heading straight for the floor-to-ceiling windows to your right, you look out at the fence surrounding the side and back of the Sanctuary. Where armed Saviors on guard should have been, you instead find Saviors face-down on the ground, blood pooling around their heads. Their bodies had been picked clean of weapons and you could see the culprits making their way back towards the factory, weapons drawn.

 

Your eyes followed the men, immediately recognising two of them as the men who came with the last group of survivors to arrive at the Sanctuary, the one with baby Lucas. Thinking back to the conversation you partly overheard earlier, you moved to the window behind Negan’s desk, watching as the men rounded the corner and made their way towards the front entrance of the factory. You jumped as they shot at more Saviors, wait - not Saviors, regular residents of the Sanctuary fighting back against the snakes in their home. 

 

You felt as though a heavy weight was resting on your chest, crushing you slowly until it started getting harder and harder to breathe. Knowing that now was  _ not  _ the time to start panicking and hyperventilating, rendering you useless, you pressed your right thumb against each finger of your right hand, starting with your index finger, hard enough in an attempt to keep yourself grounded.

 

_ Sa Ta Na Ma _

 

You saw this type of meditation on tv what seems like forever ago and you hoped to fucking high heaven that it’ll help to keep you balanced long enough to survive this. Focusing on the fight taking place below, you tried to figure out the differences between the loyal residents of the Sanctuary and those who are killing your people. 

 

_ Sa Ta Na Ma _

 

Your eyes kept darting all around the courtyard, taking in each individual, before adding more pieces to your puzzle.

 

_ Sa Ta Na Ma _

 

With wide eyes, you come to the realisation that all the rebels are, from the ones you could see, all of the new survivors that had arrived at the Sanctuary in small groups since you had first gotten here. Except, now, they were all working together. And from the looks of it they were winning. 

 

Not good.  _ Not good not good  _ **_not good_ ** .

 

_ Sa Ta Na Ma _

 

You didn't know what to do. It wasn't like you could go out there, brandishing you pretty little knife at anyone getting too close. You'd be shot before you could even stick it into anyone. You were sure as shit not wanting to get out there in search of Mason. He's a big boy with working ears, he’ll know what's going on and doesn't need your restless self to help him. 

 

All you did know was that you needed Negan and you needed him  _ now _ , along with all of the men he has with him. 

 

Your eyes zero in on Negan’s desk, knowing for a fact that he kept a walkie in there. You just prayed he didn't take this one with him today.

 

Diving towards the drawers, you started carelessly rooting through papers and magazines - is that a  _ Playboy _ ? - before almost crying out in joy when you found a walkie on top of a sheet of paper. To your utter relief, the notes on the paper told you which channel you needed to reach anyone trusted with a walkie. Reading through the notes as quick as you were able to, you figured you'd be able to reach Negan through the channel designated for impromptu missions. 

 

Wasting no time, you quickly switched to the correct channel, immediately calling out for Negan.

 

“Hello? Negan?”

 

Not getting a response fast enough, you tried again, calling out his name.

 

_ “Maria?” _

 

It was broken and choppy, but there was no mistaking that voice.

 

You tried to push your emotions to the side as you replied, needing him to hear you through the bad connection.

 

“You need to get back here Negan! They're killing them, it’s all those new survivors!”

 

You waited for a response, kicking a vase over when you didn't get one. 

 

Making your way back to the window, you look down to see that the few remaining Saviors were dead and a few of the rebels were stationed at the gate, taking over from the dead Saviors. Hearing more gunshots, you frowned in confusion, looking around the courtyard before realising the shots were coming from inside the factory. Not hearing anyone on your floor, you made your way to the door, peeking out and finding the hallway empty. 

 

_ Sa Ta Na Ma _

 

Working up your dwindling courage, you gripped the walkie in your left hand, grabbing your knife with your right and slowly making your way towards the stairwell. You needed to know how far up they were and if there were any of your people still fighting. Slowly pushing open the doors to the stairwell, you peek over the railings, pulling back immediately when it sounds like someone is right below you. Before you can dart back to the office, you hear the men below you head down the hallway.

 

Straight for the boudoir.

 

Before you can even think up some way to distract the men away from the wives, you hear more footsteps heading towards you, and this time they're not stopping at the wives floor.

 

You hurry back to the office, locking the door behind you just as you hear gunshots coming from below. You don't realise you're crying until you feel the tears drop from your chin, you chest heaving as you try to control yourself. You manage to drag the couch in front of the door before you step back, eyes on the door as you try once again to reach Negan. 

 

“Negan?! You there?”

 

Your voice is little more than a shaky whisper, too afraid to draw attention to yourself from the ever-nearing threat.

 

“Negan? If you can hear this, you need to get back right  _ now _ . I don't know what to do, Negan. We need you.” 

 

You can hear them on your floor now, casually making their way to the office, almost as if they're taunting you.

 

You hear more gunshots downstairs and your heart drops into your stomach, fearing for Sherry and the rest of the wives, praying they're okay.

 

“Negan,  _ please _ .” 

 

You hear the hitch in your voice, though you couldn't have stopped it even if you tried as you hear the footsteps stop in front of the door.

 

_ “I'm right here babygirl, don't you worry. We’re coming back darling.” _

 

Finally hearing Negan’s voice on the other end , you tried to put a stop to your tears so you can reply without sobbing. Just as you lifted the walkie back to your lips, the door handle started to rattle. Raising your knife higher, you waited to see what the person on the other side would do, slightly surprised to hear your name being called.

 

“Maria? You in there?”

 

“Mason?”

 

* * *

 

Wasting no time, Negan rounded up his men, intent on returning to the Sanctuary and stringing the fuckers who thought they could take  _ his  _ home up by the nutsacks all along the fence. 

 

He felt like a fucking idiot for bringing most of his Saviors with him, leaving the Sanctuary virtually defenceless. 

 

The Saviors, along with the rest of the group, didn't get very far since, as soon as they stepped foot outside of the indoor car park, a hail of bullets was sent their way, taking out a couple of Saviors and Hilltoppers. 

 

Quickly taking cover behind some cars and in alleyways, the group started firing back at the unknown assailants, well, at least the Saviors did since they were the only ones with guns. Rick braved the bullets, getting grazed in the arm in the process, and dove for the fallen Savior’s weapons, throwing a rifle at Daryl and taking aim at whoever it was that was firing at them. 

 

As much as he wanted to turn the gun on Negan, he knew he needed him and the Saviors if he wanted to get back home alive. 

 

It felt as though the gunfire would be never ending, the loud noise drawing more walkers towards them. Working together, the Saviors kept their aim on their attackers, who were slowly moving closer in an attempt to drop more bodies, while the Hilltoppers and Alexandrians took out any walkers that got too close.

 

Once the attackers ran out of ammo, they descended on the group using machetes and axes and even heavy pieces of pipes. 

 

Rick thought their attack style was eerily similar to the Wolves, viciously attacking anyone within their reach and with no remorse, though they didn't sport the telltale ‘W’ on their foreheads.

 

Negan was  _ pissed _ .

 

Not only was his home under attack, but now these savages were stopping him from coming to the rescue. 

 

“Oh! Lucille is  _ loving  _ you ugly bastards! Look at her wearing your insides like fucking garlands!”

 

Anyone who came within reaching distance of his beloved bat was quickly wishing they hadn't as Negan took out his anger and frustration on them. He wasn't able to mock for long, however, before a neanderthal of a man body slammed him into the ground. With his breath knocked out of him, Negan was unable to catch his breath in time before the beast seemed as though he was trying to turn his head into a pancake with his fists.

 

Through the repeated punches, Negan was able to shove his hand into the mans face, pressing his thumb into his eye and, with one hard push, the man jumped off of him screaming, his hands cradling his now bleeding eye.

 

Negan’s respite didn't last long before the man kicked him onto his back once more when he tried to stand, aiming a gun at the now helpless Negan. 

 

Watching as he smiled a hideous smile, Negan’s blood ran cold at the man’s words.

 

“Mason sends his regards.”

 

* * *

 

Pushing the couch out of the way, you unlock the door, finding Mason on the other side looking relieved and smiling that oh so charming smile of his.

 

“Oh, honey, am I glad to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! depression and insomnia have been kicking my arse lately, plus i've not been feeling as motivated cause i've not been getting many comments on my last few chapters. i got a couple of lovely comments this weekend so i forced myself to churn out this chapter! so here's a long one to make up for the delay and please comment and let me know you're still reading and how you're liking it!


	17. Chapter 17

“Mason!” You felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of your shoulders as you quickly clipped the walkie to the back of your jeans and walked into Mason’s open arms.

 

The feeling of familiar arms around you brought you a sense of comfort and safety that you didn't realise had vanished from your being as soon as Negan drove out of the front gates.

 

Reluctantly pulling out of his embrace, you asked, with a voice laced with panic, “What are we going to do, Mason? What's happening downstairs? I only saw what they did to the guards outside but I heard gunshots downstairs.”

 

Raising his hands in a vain attempt at calming you down, Mason reassured you, “It’s alright, I’m handling it. You up here alone?”

 

“Yeah, wives are at their place. Or, at least, they  _ were _ .” You watched as Mason moved further into the office, looking around as he made his way towards the window behind the desk. 

 

Looking out across the grounds of the Sanctuary, Mason let a small smile grace his features as he watched the dead guards get dragged across the lot and thrown into a pile of more dead Saviors and any heroic residents who thought they could take up arms with whatever scraps they could get their hands on. Schooling his features, he turned back to the young woman in the room with him. 

 

“Don’t worry, the wives are in good hands.” your eyes narrow as you watch Mason rifle through the drawers of Negan’s desk, clearly looking for something in particular. Him being as calm as he was in the middle of what seems to be an attempted coup does not sit well with you at all, especially as you can still hear faint sounds of struggles coming from the floors below you. Your anxious eyes watch as Mason stills when he reaches the bottom drawer, the exact one you removed the walkie from. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly as he returns his gaze to you. “What were you doing up here? I thought Negan told you to stay put with the wives?”

 

Choosing to ignore his question, you instead reply with one of your own, “What are you looking for?” 

 

Smirking, Mason resumes his search, moving over to the filing cabinets to the side to search through them, all the while keeping you within his sights. 

 

“Don't you worry your pretty li’l head about that, honey. Wanna tell me what you did with the walkie that was in there?” He jerked his head towards the desk before raking his eyes over you from head to toe, trying to spot where you may have hidden the device. 

 

Slowly, you edged your way towards the door, inch by inch, while trying to figure out what Mason was playing at. 

 

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

 

Mason’s smirk at your obvious lie only grew as he watched you jump at the sound of three consecutive gunshots ringing out from somewhere below. 

 

Trusting your gut that something was not right here, even though you have no idea what it is, you found yourself rushing to the door as soon as Mason took a step towards you. You managed to make it to the door Mason had left open when it was slammed shut by a heavy hand reaching around you. Your hands flew to the handle in a futile attempt to escape, only to be yanked back by the collar of your jacket.

 

With your back pressed firmly against Mason’s front, he easily got a feel of the bulky device clipped onto the back of your jeans and hidden from view under your jacket. Turning you both away from the door, he marched you towards the desk before throwing you at it. You used your hands to brace yourself on the desk and lift yourself back up, only to be shoved back down. 

 

Mason placed a heavy hand between your shoulder blades to keep you in place and stepped between your legs to counteract your kicking legs. Ignoring your panicked pleas, he used his free hand to pull your jacket up and grabbed the walkie. He placed it on his own belt to deal with later before turning his attention back to the struggling girl splayed out on the desk. 

 

The suggestive manner of which Mason had you on the desk had you trying your hardest to stave off a panic attack, knowing there’d be plenty of time for that when you were safely away from this fucking creep.

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

Mason pressing himself even further into you had you blindly swinging your arms behind you in the hopes of causing at least some physical damage but only resulted in having your arms twisted and held against your back. You're breaths were harsh and uneven now from the pressure on your chest and now the pain in your arms from Mason’s unforgiving grip. 

 

“Why am I doing  _ what  _ exactly, honey? Why do I have you bent over this desk in a way that’ll have a Wife blushing? Or is it why do I have my people taking control of the Sanctuary, the Hilltop and Alexandria right this very moment?” 

 

You still at his words, your thoughts running a mile a minute. The Hilltop and Alexandria were under attack too? How many people does Mason have?! Why does he even  _ have  _ people if he's been a resident of the Sanctuary for however many months? 

 

Mason chuckles at the obvious confusion displayed on your face, leaning in real close, his body engulfs yours as he inhales deeply with his nose buried deep in your hair. 

 

“I know you've got a lotta questions running through that pretty head of yours, honey, but I’m gonna need some answers of my own. Where are the lists?”

 

“I'm not telling you  _ shit! _ ” You had no idea what ‘lists’ he was talking about but you'd be damned if you let him know that. 

 

Mason bent your arms further up your back, the pain causing a whimper to escape your lips no matter how hard you tried to stifle it, and pressed his hips further into you.

 

“You wanna try that again?”

 

You could feel the promise of something more sinister pressing into your rear, causing your breath to hitch as you caved. 

 

“What lists?”

 

“The lists Negan keeps of every community he's aware of and all of his outposts, including all the supplies at each place. I know he keeps a detailed log of it all and you're going to tell me where it is.”

 

“I don't know! I've not seen those lists.” You grunt in pain at the pressure on your arms, positive that anymore and your shoulders are gonna pop out of place.

 

” _ Don't _ lie to me, honey. Now, I didn't plan on killing ya, but that doesn't mean I won't hurt ya. Hell, maybe I’ll just hurt one of those pretty wives you've become all chummy with, how’s that sound?”

 

“I'm not lying! I helped out with sorting supplies for each outpost but he never told me where they were, he had no reason to!”

 

Mason let you stew in your pain for a moment longer before seeming to believe you and releasing you from his hold. You only had a moment to bask in the relief of your freed joints and the absence of pressure on your chest before Mason grabbed a hold of both of your arms, leading you in front of himself and marching you both out of the office. 

 

You tripped multiple times from the unrelenting grip Mason had on you and the pace at which he was moving you, and not once did he let up, only letting you fall, hard, before yanking you up and dragging you along. He lead you down the stairwell, where you tried and failed to avoid looking at the sprays of blood that seemed to paint most walls, all the way down to the first floor, before taking you up onto the catwalk that surrounded the hall. 

 

Moving his grip to your hair, Mason shoved you against the railing, pushing you further until your ribs dug into the metal bar, the top half of your body leaning dangerously over as your feet left the ground. 

 

Your white knuckle grip on the railing was the only thing ensuring you weren’t going to fall to your death should Mason wish to let go of you. 

 

This was  _ literally _ your worst fear. You were always the kid who chose to hold everyone’s belongings in lieu of riding roller coasters and other rides due to your fear of heights, and here you were, threatened to be thrown down to your death. 

 

Immediately, your breathing picked up and your eyes started to water, finding yourself unashamedly whimpering but unable to make any other sounds thanks to the icy grip of fear on your very fucking soul. 

 

Hearing gasps come from below you, your eyes dart around the hall, taking in everyone gathered below you. You let out a pitiful cry as you realise how hopeless the situation truly is for yourself and the residents of the Sanctuary, the  _ true  _ residents.

 

There are no Saviors from what you can see, and you have to assume that they’ve either been killed or being held prisoner somewhere. Instead, in their place are all the new faces who had arrived at the Sanctuary in the months since you’d arrived, and some you didn't recognise. They all carried weapons on them, all of which are pointed at the people they surround, the people currently fearing for your safety while they could very easily be shot down in the blink of an eye. 

 

Your vision started to blur through your tears as you took in all the defeated and broken faces below you, and a scream left your lips when you were jerked so hard that you almost lost your grip on the railing. Mason ignored you, and you quickly take note that he's addressing the room.

 

“Listen up! I'm going to keep this brief so pay attention. The Sanctuary is under new management! You no longer take your orders from Negan, that loud mouthed bastard is dead.”

 

_ No no no no no _

 

You refuse to believe it as your eyes follow the sounds of the loudest whimpers in the room, locking your gaze with Sherry’s, who’s huddled with the sobbing wives amongst the residents. 

 

“From now on, you do as I say, you follow the orders of my men, and we won't have any problems. If you refuse? Well, there's a pile of dead Saviors out front you can join if you don't like the way I run things.”

 

You're pretty sure your scalp is bleeding by this point and there is now a faint ringing in your ears from the pain of your ribs taking all of your weight on the railing. Your hands are starting to cramp from their grip when Mason suddenly yanks you back up and drops you by his feet. 

 

You wrap an arm around your ribs as you try to stop your entire body from shaking, the orders of Mason’s men below you at your people not quite registering in your mind. 

 

You  _ have  _ to believe that Negan is alive out there, somewhere, battling his way back to the Sanctuary to take back his crown. You needed that faith as there had to be an  _ after  _ to this takeover. This couldn't be it. It just fucking couldn't. 

 

Besides, why the hell should you believe Mason?! If you can take anything away from today, it’s that Mason is a fucking snake who never should have been trusted. So why should you trust him when he says Negan is dead? You shouldn't. 

 

Caught up in your thoughts, you realise too late that Mason has crouched down in front of you and so you're unable to scooch away in time when he wraps a large hand around your neck. Your hands fly up to his as he slowly tightens his grip, leaning in close.

 

“I hope you were listening closely, honey. You gonna behave for me?”

 

You fucking  _ hate  _ the smug look on his face as he knows there's nothing you can do without endangering other people. 

 

Becoming impatient whilst waiting for your reply, his hand tightens around your neck threateningly, on the verge of cutting off your air supply. 

 

You nod quickly, too afraid you'll fall into a coughing fit if you attempt to speak. 

 

Hand still around your neck, he's about to reply when he's interrupted by one of his men coming up on the catwalk behind you. 

 

“Chief, we've got company.”

 

This time his hand really does cut off your air supply, though Mason pays no attention to your struggles as you claw at his hand. Instead, his green eyes narrow on the man.

 

“Well? Who the hell is it?”

 

“The group that went scavenging a few days ago, lead by that bearded guy. They're not at the gate yet.”

 

“ _ No _ .” Your eyes widen as realisation sets in as to who is coming up to the Sanctuary. Being gone since before this entire thing started, they won't have even an inkling of what they're walking into.

 

Mason’s eyes dart back to you at your choked plea, loosening his grip just enough to allow you to breathe once again. His confusion is quickly replaced with understanding as he puts together who it is that's arriving.

 

The wicked glint in his eyes brings an even greater fear over you than being dangled from a great height with the threat of being dropped to your death. 

 

“Whaddya say we go welcome James home, honey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look! trash person updates fic! i'm SO sorry for the long wait! just know that no matter how long goes between chapters, i WILL finish this story, i know where it's going.   
> thank you so much for all the lovely comments last chapter, i read over them all before writing this chapter and forced myself to finish it, hence why i'm posting this at 5am, whoops.   
> anyway, please let me know how you're liking this chapter! xo


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, trash person returns from hole with another chapter !

When Negan heard the  _ bang _ of the gun, he knew he’d see Lucille’s face flash before his eyes, and even expected to see long forgotten childhood friends, maybe his piece of shit dad interspersed with memories of himself teaching, the day he got married and the utter debauchery he got up to with his wives since the world ended. 

 

Surprisingly, what he saw instead was, along with his beautiful Lucille; his sweet mom tending to his scraped elbows and knees; the looks on those damn kids faces the first time they heard him swear in front of them with no regards to the consequences; finding the factory with Simon, the factory that would become a Sanctuary to all those in need, and, finally, a vision on himself singing horribly out of key just to see the laugh that lit up a sweet little Brit’s face in his office. 

 

Even more surprising was when the troll in front of him dropped down like a sack of potatoes, a fresh bullet wound in his head instead of Negan’s. 

 

Now, Negan was a man that didn't fear death. He knew his days were numbered, now more than ever, hence why he lives his life by his own rules now. Although, saying that, he'd be a fucking liar if he said there wasn't a tiny,  _ miniscule  _ part of him that was pissing itself when that barrel was pointed at him and hearing the deafening bang resulting from a trigger being pulled. 

 

Shaking off the momentary shock of seeing his life flash before his eyes, Negan’s eyes zeroed in on the still-smoking barrel of Rick’s Colt Python, which was still raised in the direction of his victim. The pair kept eye contact as Negan raised himself from his vulnerable position on the ground, and it seemed as if the entire world, dead and alive, was holding their breath to see what action Rick would take next. He could end it right then and there; Negan’s reign of terror on the communities would be over and it’ll be one less villain for them to take down.

 

Slowly, almost mockingly, Rick lowered his weapon, bringing it down to his side. No, as much as he was loathe to admit it, they  _ needed  _ Negan. The other communities combined don't make up half the number of men Negan has under his control, and not to mention they’re gonna need his guns to tackle this mess that’s been festering under all of their noses.

 

“Hey, yo! We got a live one over here!” 

 

Tilting his head in the direction of Daryl’s voice, Rick maintained eye contact with Negan for a beat longer, before simply turning his back towards him and heading towards his friend.

 

Releasing a heavy breath, Negan took a moment to collect his bearings with as straight of a face as he could muster. He didn't have time to think about how close he came to having his brain matter paint the ground behind him, or the images that flashed through what he thought were his final moments.

 

No, that can wait. 

 

Negan followed behind Rick, determination in each stride as thinks of all of the ways he can  _ interrogate  _ the last remaining fucker that thought he could take him down.

 

* * *

  
  


Your ears were ringing as Mason dragged you out to the balcony, his words not registering in your mind as he droned on and on while you looked out across the grounds of the Sanctuary.

 

Intentionally avoiding the pile of bodies off to the side of the yard, your eyes were trained on the two trucks billowing dust up the path as they drove up to the gates, unaware of what was waiting for them. 

 

When the gates were pulled open for the men, you immediately wanted to shout down to them, scream for them to turn around and get the hell away from the sadistic chaos that was now the Sanctuary. You didn't get a chance to even try and grab their attention as Mason, perhaps sensing your intentions to warn the men arriving, wasted no time in wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side, effectively trapping your arms by your side. He brought his free hand up in a bruising grip over your mouth, silencing any attempts to get the men’s attentions.

 

Once the trucks were parked, James stepped out, expecting to be met by Simon or one of the other senior members of the Saviors for a sort of debrief that takes place whenever scavenging trips take longer than a couple of days. Instead, to his surprise, James was met by Kyle, someone who was usually found cleaning the toilets and shower cubicles of the communal living quarters, approaching him while decked out in seemingly full military gear.

 

Oh, and the dead bodies of his colleagues and the people he’d come to call friends piled high off to the side of the factory. Can't miss that.

 

In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, you watched as Mason’s men descended on James and the remaining Saviors as they exited the trucks with their hackles raised, sensing that things were not right within the gates of their home. You could do nothing but watch on helplessly as James’ men were disarmed and knocked down to the ground in no time at all as they were ridiculously outnumbered. James alone was a big guy so Mason’s men were taking no chances with him, with no fewer than five men attempting to restrain him as he put up one hell of a fight. 

 

James’ downfall, however, came in the form of the deafening gunshot, and then the body of Henry, his second in command on the scavenging trip, dropping heavily at his feet. Whipping his head in the direction of where the shot came from, James’ eyes immediately connected with your teary ones, finding you struggling to free yourself from Mason’s unforgiving grip, who still held the handgun raised and was now dangerously close to your own head. 

 

Seeming to deflate at the hopeless sight before him, James was easily overpowered and brought to his knees, his hands bound behind his back. 

 

James didn't know what the hell had happened here, where Negan or the other Sanctuary residents were, for all he knew they might have made up part of that gruesome pile back there, but seeing you up there, scared out of your mind with another man's arm holding you captive, he knew one thing for sure. 

 

He was going to die today. He was going to breathe his last breath without ever getting to hold you in his arms again. He’d never know what it would be like to kiss you; would it be soft and sweet and as cliche as the movies? Or would it be a mess of bumped foreheads and noses smooshing unattractively into each other, and just overall awkward and just as clumsy as the girl he’d hoped to call his?

 

He wouldn't know if it would work out with you. Negan had taken so much time away from the both of you, sending him on all these long term scavenging trips, unbeknownst to you, but he tried to spend as much of his free time as possible with you. With the world coming to an end as it did, and the loss of all of your friends and family, there wasn't a lot to look forward to anymore.

 

But the thought of  _ finally  _ being done with these long trips and getting to spend the winter with you? Using the cold weather and the Sanctuary’s crappy heating system as an excuse to cozy up to you in the game room in the evenings, stealing you away from Negan during your lunch break to make up for all of the time he missed out on with you…

 

Yeah, the end of the world didn't seem so depressing at the thought of spending it with you.

 

If possible, James deflated even further as he watched Mason drag you down the stairs that climb the outside of the factory, the steadily increasing number of men surrounding him and his small group not even registering in his mind as he worries for your safety. 

 

Once at ground level you watch as one of Mason’s men drag away the body Mason callously shot down, adding it to the growing pile.

 

You couldn't stop the tears from falling as you kept your eyes on James, the larger than life man forced down onto his knees and surrounded by a hell of a lot of Mason’s men, some of whom seem to be leading the remaining Sanctuary residents outside to observe whatever Mason has planned.

 

As you passed the side doors of the factory, unexpectedly, one of the metal doors slammed open directly into Mason, sending him crashing down to the ground. Before you could face plant alongside him thanks to the grip he still held on your arm, an arm shot out through the open doorway, latching onto the back of your jacket and dragging you inside.

 

The whole incident took place in seconds, and by the time Mason lifted himself up and his men started making their way over with their weapons raised, your savior had locked and chained the doors together. 

 

You regard Dwight with a look of pure bewilderment as he stands before you, in all of his leather and crossbow glory. 

 

“No time.” 

 

He cuts you off before you can even form one of the many questions running through your head, instead grabbing a hold of your hand and racing through the hallways just as the loud bangs of Mason and his men trying to get through the doors registered in your ears.

 

“Wait! What about James? We can't just leave them, they're gonna -”

 

“It’s too late for him! And everyone else. We gotta get somewhere safe before -”

 

“Sherry’s out there! Don't you even care?”

It’s a low blow, and you immediately feel guilty over throwing that in Dwight’s face, but everything is moving so quickly right now and all you know is that James is out there in as vulnerable a position as he possibly can be and you just needed him to be as safe as you were right now. You  _ know _ you’re heavily outnumbered and that there isn't some magical solution Dwight can pull out of his back pocket to fix all of this, but the fear still buzzing through your veins isn't exactly helping you think clearly.

 

You almost run into Dwight as he stops abruptly and whirls around to face you, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 

“You think I don't know that? You think I wanna leave her out there after seeing what those bastards are capable of? If it were possible I’d have her here right now but I can't! I can't do shit! We need to get our asses moving so we can find another way to fix this shitshow and get our people away from those bastards.”

 

The glare Dwight directed at you was enough to make you feel like you were back at school, being reprimanded by a teacher. It did, however, help to ground you somewhat, and with a nod of understanding, Dwight went back to leading you through the factory.

 

The corridors were mostly empty, since everyone had gathered outside, and those that still remained were expertly avoided thanks to Dwight and his curious ability at finding hiding places just as you were both about to be caught.

 

You didn't know where he was taking you, and frankly you were a bit too intimidated to ask as you both weaved your way through narrow hallways you didn't even know existed in the factory.

 

You were passing one of the few windows clean enough to look out of when it was your turn to halt in your steps, watching the scene outside in horror.

 

“We don't have time for this! We need to get out the back while they're still busy out front.”

 

You ignored Dwight as your eyes zeroed in on James, standing tall and proud, his arms still bound behind his back and a gun pointed at the back of his head, in front of Mason who was pacing before him. Even though you couldn't hear a word being said, the anger was clear in every step as Mason furiously gestured with his hands. That's when your attention was drawn to the wicked looking blade in Mason’s grasp.

 

Your heart stops as Mason suddenly turns to face you, eyes roving over the factory. He  _ knows _ , that fucker just  _ knows  _ that your watching but can't locate you thanks to the grimy layers that coat the Sanctuary windows. But, just ‘cause he can't see you doesn't mean he can't put on a show for you.

 

Grinning up at the Sanctuary, Mason turns on his heel and promptly buries his knife to the hilt up James’ neck.

 

Your scream is muffled as Dwight, equally shocked at what he’s just witnessed, has enough mind to wrap a hand over your mouth. 

 

You want to look away, desperately want to tear your gaze away from the scene and throw up the meager contents of your stomach but you find yourself frozen on the spot as Mason rips his knife out, stepping away from James. 

 

James dropped heavily to his knees as you felt Dwight start to tug you away from the window, unsure when your screaming turned into body wracking sobs. 

 

You watched, your heart breaking, as your handsome, homeless viking took his last breaths just before Dwight managed to haul you away from the window and lead you both away in the direction of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! i struggled with this chapter cause i just didnt wanna hurt james! it was a fine idea when i first started this fic but now i've grown to love him and i know a lot of you guys did too! ugh. im not entirely confident with this chapter since it's been a while since the last update so please let know how it was! xo


	19. Chapter 19

As if your arm hadn't gone through enough torture today to last a lifetime, it felt as though Dwight was trying to rip it from your body as he dragged you through the narrow hallways and hidden passageways of the Sanctuary. 

 

By the time the back entrance of the factory was in view, you had managed to smother your sobbing down to just painful hitches of your breath, but try as you might, you could do nothing to stop the tears flowing as James’ final moments replayed in your head over and over again. 

 

Your little emotional breakdown was rudely interrupted, however, as Dwight was, quite frankly, clotheslined and ripped from your grip by  _ Roy _ of all fucking people. You were briefly too stunned to move at the sight of Roy on top of Dwight, trying his hardest to knock him out whilst Dwight tried in vain to push the sweaty bastard off of himself. 

 

Thankfully, it didn't take you long to get your head into gear and, as stealthily as you were capable of, you shuffled your way around so that you were behind Roy. You drew your fancy little blade from your jacket and gave yourself a little pep talk in your head before charging towards Roy. With your feet planted on either side of Dwight, you wrapped your left arm around Roy’s meaty neck. Dwight, catching on, gave Roy enough of a push needed to get the man off of him with the added help of you pulling him from behind.

 

The momentum had caused Roy to land on his arse, finding an incredibly sharp dagger under his chin. Dwight took no time at all to right himself, before crooking two fingers in your direction. Taking the hint, you happily let the sweaty man go and, before he could regain his footing, quickly made your way to Dwight. 

 

“We don't have time for this!” you couldn't help the urgency from leaking out of your tone as you whispered to Dwight, watching as he stared the man out, most likely trying to decide how much damage he can cause before you were surrounded. Snapping out of it, Dwight marched towards Roy, still down on his arse, and whacked him ‘round the head with his bow. You winced, seeing the instant damage caused as blood immediately ran down his face as he flopped to the side, out cold.

 

“C’mon.” Dwight, once again, grabbed your arm, and finally managed to get the two of you out through the back entrance. From there, it should have been an easy run straight ahead to the fence, where Dwight had previously made an undetectable opening from which you can get out of the Sanctuary grounds and into the woods. 

 

It  _ should  _ have been easy.

 

You'd wasted too much time on Roy. Even though the whole ordeal barely last a few minutes, it was still a few minutes too many. A handful of Mason’s men were currently making their way from around the corner of the factory, eyes locked onto the both of you and weapons raising. It might be the stupidest decision you'd ever make, but you knew that you'd rather run through a hail of bullets than see what that sick fuck Mason has in store for you if you were captured. And so, that's exactly what you did. This time though it was you who grabbed Dwight by the arm as you made a beeline towards the fence, Dwight nudging you in the right direction. 

 

And if you gripped his arm just a  _ little  _ tighter than necessary in retribution for his treatment of your arm earlier, well that's neither here nor there.

 

“ _ Fuck _ !”

 

You felt the effects of your stupidity when you were mere feet away from the fence, feeling hot white flashes of pain burn through your left arm and hip. A slew of curses made their way past your gritted teeth, as you tried to let that sweet, sweet adrenaline make you feel immune to the pain, focusing on scrambling through the hole in the fence that a dog would struggle to get through and hoping you don't end up with an arse full of bullets.

 

Booty thankfully free of lead and both you and Dwight on the other side of the fence, you waste no time and make a beeline for the wooded area that surrounds part of Sanctuary. You can hear the men behind you struggling to get through the fence, buying you enough time to get to the shelter of the trees and hopefully lose Mason’s men. 

 

Dwight is fucking relentless.

 

He refuses to slow down so that you can both take stock of your injuries, even though you can see blood seeping through his jeans on his thigh, and is adamant on leading you to fuck knows where. Thankfully, you haven't run into any of the dead yet, since the Saviors are good at keeping the area close to home clear, yet you are very quickly reaching the end of your tether.

 

The need to throw up has not left you since seeing James for the last time, on top of which you probably have at least two extra holes in your body that you are really starting to  _ feel  _ the more the adrenaline wears off. 

 

It’s when you make it onto a road lined with trees on either side that you make Dwight do  _ something  _ for your arm, which currently hangs uselessly at your side, as you're too scared to move it too much, and bleeding at an alarming rate. You stubbornly refuse to look at the state your arm or hip or whatever else is in.

 

If you can't see it then you're not suffering from blood loss, right?  _ Right _ .

 

Dwight agrees to bind your arm on the condition that you both keep walking as he does it. You fight the desperate urge to swing at his face, maybe scratch his eyes a little bit, and try to keep a steady pace as you feel Dwight bind your arm, though you find yourself stumbling more often than not and are starting to slow down considerably. Dwight has started to hold some of your weight, throwing your arm over his shoulder, though he's not faring much better if his limp is anything to go by.

 

“I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry.”

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

“ _ Dwight _ . I'm pretty sure this is what dying feels like.”

 

“God damn, will you ju-” 

 

You stare at Dwight, wondering what made him shut up so quickly and look like a deer caught in headlights.

 

Are the dead close by? Have Mason and his men caught up to you?

 

“Dwight, wha-”

 

“ _ Shh _ !”

 

You wait a minute and then you hear it - voices.

 

Shit.

 

They're talking low, yet they sound much too close for comfort as they approach from around the bend in the road. The trees are sparse now next to the road, and you know you won't get close enough to cover without these people spotting you first, probably adding to your collection of bullet holes in the process.

 

You're suddenly hit with an intense wave of emotion; your eyes burning with the urge to cry and your already uneven breaths now hitching. After everything,  _ everything,  _ you'd been through today, you just could not catch a break. You were mentally and physically exhausted. But you would not go down without a fight.

 

You remove your arm from Dwight’s shoulder to draw your little dagger out, ready for whatever Mason and his men have in store for you. Dwight, keeping one arm around you to hold you up, uses his other to draw his bow, arrow already nocked and waiting. You're a little embarrassed by your seriously shaking hand holding your dagger, compared to Dwight’s impressively steady hand, but you can just blame that on the blood loss.

 

Before the anticipation gets too much where you almost want to scream at Mason’s men to hurry up, the group finally rounds the corner. 

 

Only, it’s not Mason or his men.

 

You vaguely recognise a few of the faces and a few you've never seen before as they immediately raise their weapons upon noticing you and Dwight. It’s only when the rest of the group catches up that your heart swells as relief floods through your system. 

 

You slowly lower your weapon as you are met with the wary faces of the Alexandrians and the Saviors, your eyes running over each and everyone until they land on a familiar pair of whiskey brown eyes that widen in shock as they take in the state of you.

 

“Negan?”

 

“Told ya I’d be back, babygirl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look who's back from the dead!  
> i know, i'm shitty, but its been a shitty year. i got diagnosed with PCOS which was fun(!) the whole ordeal caused me to neglect uni so im redoing my 2nd year now.  
> on the plus side, i got a job!! i'll try not to be so shitty with updates but honestly i make no promises. you never know whats gonna happen. please comment - they're literally the only reason i update this fic anymore xo


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